THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

Prom  the  collection  of 
James  Collins , 
Drumcondra,  Ireland. 
PurchaS ed , 1918 . 

5 

C 7 Z(>  m 

Gop.'Z. 


LATELY  PUBLLSHED. 


i. 

THE  MONKS  OF  THE  WEST, 

FROM  ST  BENEDICT  TO  ST  BERNARD. 

BY  THE 

COUNT  DE  MONTALEMBERT. 

5 vols.  8vo,  £2,  12s.  6d. 

“We  must,  however,  say  a word  of  praise  for  the  anonymous  trans- 
lator, who  has  done  his  work  throughout  in  a very  creditable  manner. 
— Spectator. 

“ If  this  version  had  reached  us  earlier  it  might  have  saved  us  some 
trouble,  as,  on  a comparison  of  our  own  extracts  with  the  corresponding 
passages,  we  have  found  it  to  be,  in  general,  both  faithful  and  spirited, 
so  that  we  should  have  been  glad  for  the  most  part  to  make  use  of  the 
translator’s  words  instead  of  doing  the  work  for  ourselves.”  Quarterly 
Reviezu. 


II. 

THE  CONVERSION  OF  ENGLAND. 


BY  THE 

COUNT  DE  MONTALEMBERT. 

3 vols.  8vo,  £1,  ns.  6d. 

. (Forming  Vols.  III.,  IV.,  and  V.  of  the  ‘ Monks  of  the  West.’) 

“ It  is,  indeed,  a volume  of  peculiar  interest  to  Englishmen,  as  deal- 
ing with  the  religious  history  of  the  British  Isles  ; while  it  is  not  inferior 
to  its  predecessors  in  vividness  and  eloquence  of  picturesque  delineation, 
or  in  their  occasional  touches  of  pathos.  . . . On  the  whole,  the 

intellectual  interest  of  the  Count’s  ‘ Monks  of  the  West’  rests  mainly  on 
this,  that  it  is  the  work  of  a brilliant  and  accomplished  layman  and  man 
of  the  world,  dealing  with  a class  of  characters  who  have  generally  been 
left  to  the  arid  professional  handling  of  ecclesiastical  writers.  Monta- 
lembert  sees  their  life  as  a whole,  and  a human  whole  ; and,  with  all  his 
zeal  as  an  amateur  hagiographer,  he  cannot  but  view  them  with  some  of 
the  independence  of  a mind  trained  to  letters  and  politics.” — Pall  Mall 
Gazette. 


W.  Blackwood  & Sons,  Edinburgh  and  London. 


SAINT  COLUMBA 


APOSTLE  OF  CALEDONIA 


C\\ar\e^  Va 


Kevv/  d tBY  THE 


i \e-v\e 


COUNT  DE  MONTALEMBERT 

^ II V 

OF  THE  FRENCH  ACADEMY 


FIDE  AC  VERITATE 


WILLIAM  BLACKWOOD  AND  SONS 

EDINBURGH  AND  LONDON 


MDCCCLXVIII 


The  Narrative  now  given  to  the  public  is 
taken  from  the  Third  Volume  of  the  ‘ Monks 
of  the  West,’  the  first  of  the  three  volumes  of 
that  work  which  are  dedicated  to  the  con- 
version of  the  British  Isles  by  the  Celtic  and 
Romish  Missionaries.  It  has  appeared  to  some 
that  the  life  of  St  Columba — one  of  the  most 
heroic  and  the  least  remembered  of  the  com- 
batants in  that  great  conflict — might,  without 
inconvenience,  be  detached  from  the  rest  of 
the  work,  and  would  not  on  that  account  be 
found  less  wanting  in  serious  and  original 
interest.  In  accordance  with  their  desire  the 
following  pages  are  published.  It  is  of  im- 
portance to  bear  in  mind  that  everything  in 
this  narrative  is  borne  out  by  the  best  known 


435039 


VI 


Preface. 

records  of  Irish  hagiography.  The  Author 
has  not  written  one  word  which  cannot  be 
justified  or  explained  by  documents  the  value 
of  which  is  proved  or  discussed  in  the  notes 
to  his  larger  work.  These  notes  it  has  been 
necessary  for  the  most  part  to  exclude  from 
the  present  reprint,  to  avoid  unnecessarily  ex- 
tending its  bulk.  But  any  curious  or  scep- 
tical reader  will  do  well  to  consult  them  in 
the  text  of  ‘ The  Monks  of  the  West/  before 
forming  his  judgment  of  the  men  and  trans- 
actions of  the  sixth  century  in  Ireland  and 
Scotland. 


I 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  YOUTH  OF  COLUMBA,  AND  HIS  MONASTIC 
LIFE  IN  IRELAND. 

The  biographers  of  Columba. — His  different  names  — 
His  royal  origin. — The  supreme  kings  of  Ireland  : 
the  O’Neills  and  O’Donnells ; Red  Hugh.— Birth  of 
Columba ; vision  of  his  mother— His  monastic  edu- 
cation; jealousy  of  his  comrades;  Kieran;  the  two 
Finnians;  the  school  of  Clonard. — Vision  of  the 
guardian  angel  and  the  three  brides. — The  assassin 
of  a virgin  struck  by  death  at  the  prayer  of  Columba. 
— His  youthful  influence  in  Ireland ; his  monastic 
foundations,  especially  at  Durrow  and  at  Derry ; his 
song  in  honour  of  Derry. — His  love  for  poetry;  his 
connection  with  the  travelling  bards. — He  was  him- 
self a poet,  a great  traveller,  and  of  a quarrelsome 
disposition. — His  passion  for  manuscripts. — Longa- 
rad  of  the  hairy  legs  and  his  bag  of  books. — Dispute 
about  the  Psalter  of  Finnian;  judgment  of  King 
Diarmid,  founder  of  Clonmacnoise. — Protest  of  Co- 
lumba; he  takes  to  flight,  chanting  the  Hymn  of 
Confide7ice>  and  raises  a civil  war. — Battle  of  Cul- 


via 


Contents. 


Dreimlme;  the  Cathac  or  Psalter  of  battle. — Synod 
of  Teltown ; Columba  is  excommunicated. — St  Bren- 
dan takes  part  with  Columba,  who  consults  several 
hermits,  and  among  others  Abban,  in  the  Cell  of 
Tears. — The  last  of  his  advisers,  Molaise,  condemns 
him  to  exile. — Twelve  of  his  disciples  follow  him; 
devotion  of  the  young  Mochonna. — Contradictory  re- 
ports concerning  the  first  forty  years  of  his  life,  . I 


CHAPTER  II. 

COLUMBA  AN  EMIGRANT  IN  CALEDONIA — THE 
HOLY  ISLE  OF  IONA. 

Aspect  of  the  Hebridean  archipelago. — Columba  first 
lands  at  Oronsay,  but  leaves  it  because  Ireland  is 
visible  from  its  shores. — Description  of  Iona. — First 
buildings  of  the  new  monastery. — What  remains  of 
it. — Enthusiasm  of  Johnson  on  landing  there  in  the 
eighteenth  century.  — Columba  bitterly  regrets  his 
country. — Passionate  elegies  on  the  pains  of  exile. — 
Note  upon  the  poem  of  Altus. — Proofs  in  his  bio- 
graphy of  the  continuance  of  that  patriotic  regret. — 

The  stork  comes  from  Ireland  to  Iona,  . .31 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  APOSTOLATE  OF  COLUMBA  AMONG  THE 
SCOTS  AND  PICTS. 

Moral  transformation  of  Columba.  — His  progress  in 
spiritual  life.  — His  humility.  — His  charity.  — His 
preaching  by  tears. — The  hut  which  formed  his 
abbatial  palace  at  Iona. — Plis  prayers  ; his  work  of 
transcription. — His  crowd  of  visitors. — His  severity 


Contents . 


IX 


in  the  examination  of  monastic  vocations.  A’idus 
the  Black,  the  murderer  of  Columba’s  enemy  King 
Diarmid,  rejected  by  the  community. —Penance  of 
Libran  of  the  Rushes.—  Columba  encourages  the 
despairing  and  unmasks  the  hypocrites.— Monastic 
propaganda  of  Iona  ; Columba’s  fifty-three  founda- 
tions in  Scotland.— His  relations  with  the  people 
of  Caledonia  : First  with  the  colony  of  Dalriadians 
from  Ireland,  whose  king  was  his  relative  ; he  en- 
lightens and  confirms  their  imperfect  Christianity.— 
Ambushes  laid  for  his  chastity.- His  connection 
with  the  Piets,  who  occupied  the  north  of  Britain.— 
The  dorsum  Britannia.— Columba  their  first  mis- 
sionary.—The  fortress  gates  of  their  king  Brudus 
open  before  him.— He  struggles  with  the  Druids  m 
their  last  refuge. — He  preaches  by  an  interpreter. 
His  respect  for  natural  virtue.— Baptism  of  two  old 
Pictish  chiefs. — Columba’s  humanity  : he  redeems 
an  Irish  captive.  — Frequent  journeys  among  the 
Piets,  whose  conversion  he  accomplishes  before  he 
dies . — His  fellow- workers,  Malruve  and  Drostan  ; 
the  Monastery  of  Tears, 


CHAPTER  IV. 

COLUMBA  CONSECRATES  THE  KING  OF  THE  SCOTS.— 
HE  GOES  TO  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY  OF  IRE- 
LAND, DEFENDS  THE  INDEPENDENCE  OF  THE 
HIBERNIO-SCOTIC  COLONY,  AND  SAVES  THE  COR- 
PORATION OF  BARDS. 

Passionate  solicitude  of  Columba  for  his  relatives  and 
countrymen.— He  protects  King  Aldan  in  his  strug- 
gle with  the  Anglo-Saxons  of  Northumbria.— The 
same  king  is  crowned  by  Columba  at  Iona ; the  first 
example  of  a Christian  consecration  of  kings.— The 
Stone  of  Destiny:  The  descendants  of  Aldan.— 


X 


Contents. 


Synod  or  Parliament  of  Drumceitt  in  Ireland. — 
Aedh,  king  of  Ireland,  and  A'idan,  king  of  the  Irish 
colonists  in  Scotland. — The  independence  of  the 
new  Scottish  kingdom  is  recognised  through  the  in- 
fluence of  Columba. — He  interposes  in  favour  of  the 
bards,  whom  the  king  had  proposed  to  outlaw. — 
Power  and  excesses  of  that  corporation. — By  means 
of  Columba,  the  good  grain  is  not  burned  with  the 
weeds. — The  bards’  song  of  gratitude  in  honour  of 
their  saviour. — Columba,  reproved  by  his  disciple, 
desires  that  this  song  should  not  be  repeated  during 
his  life. — Superstitious  regard  attached  to  it  after  his 
! death. — Intimate  union  between  music,  poetry,  and 
religion  in  Ireland. — The  bards,  transformed  into 
minstrels,  are  the  first  champions  of  national  inde- 
pendence and  Catholic  faith  against  the  English  con- 
quest.— Fiercely  assailed,  they  yet  continue  to  exist 
up  to  our  own  day. — Moore’s  Irish  Melodies. — The 
Celtic  muse  at  the  service  of  the  vanquished  in  the 
Highlands  of  Scotland  as  in  Ireland,  . . 6S 


CHAPTER  V. 

COLUMBA’s  RELATIONS  WITH  IRELAND — CONTINUED. 

Cordial  intercourse  of  Columba  with  the  Irish  princes. 

— Prophecy  upon  the  future  of  their  sons. — Domnall, 
the  king’s  son,  obtains  the  privilege  of  dying  in  his 
bed. — Columba  visits  the  Irish  monasteries. — Pop- 
ular enthusiasm. — Vocation  of  the  young  idiot  after- 
wards known  as  St  Ernan. — Solicitude  of  Columba 
for  the  distant  monasteries  and  monks. — He  protects 
them  from  excessive  labours  and  accidents. — He 
exercises  authority  over  laymen. — Baithen,  his  cou- 
sin-german and  principal  assistant. — The  respect 
shown  to  both  in  an  assembly  of  learned  men,  . 87 


Contents . 


xi 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COLUMBA,  THE  PROTECTOR  OF  SAILORS  AND  AGRI- 
CULTURISTS, THE  FRIEND  OF  LAYMEN,  AND  THE 
AVENGER  OF  THE  OPPRESSED. 

His  universal  solicitude  and  charity  during  all  his  mis- 
sionary life.  — The  sailor-monks  : seventy  monks  of 
Iona  form  the  crew  of  the  monastic  fleet ; their  boats 
made  of  osiers  covered  with  hides. — Their  boldness 
at  sea  : the  whirlpool  of  Corryvreckan.— Columba’s 
prayer  protects  them  against  sea-monsters. — Their 
love  of  solitude  leads  them  into  unknown  seas, 
where  they  discover  St  Kilda,  Iceland,  and  the  Faroe 
Isles. — Cormac  in  Orkney,  and  in  the  icy  ocean.— 
Columba  often  accompanies  them  : his  voyages  among 
the  Hebrides.— The  wild  boar  of  Skye.— He  subdues 
tempests  by  his  prayer  : he  invokes  his  friend  St 
Kenneth.  — He  is  himself  invoked  during  life,  and 
after  his  death,  as  the  arbiter  of  winds. — Filial  com- 
plaints of  the  monks  when  their  prayers  are  not 
granted. — The  benefits  which  he  conferred  on  the 
agricultural  population  disentangled  from  the  maze  of 
fables  : Columba  discovers  fountains,  regulates  irri- 
gations and  fisheries,  shows  how  to  graft  fruit-trees, 
obtains  early  harvests,  interferes  to  stop  epidemics, 
cures  diseases,  and  procures  tools  for  the  peasants. 
His  special  solicitude  for  the  monkish  labourers  : he 
blesses  the  milk  when  it  is  brought  from  the  cow : his 
breath  refreshes  them  on  their  return  from  harvest.— 
The  blacksmith  carried  to  heaven  by  his  alms —His 
relations  with  the  layman  whose  hospitality  he  claims : 
prophecy  touching  the  rich  miser  who  shuts  his  door 
upon  him. — The  five  cows  of  his  Lochaber  host.— 
The  poacher’s  spear.— He  pacifies  and  consoles  all 
whom  he  meets.— His  prophetic  threats  against  the 
felons  and  rievers. — Punishment  inflicted  upon  the 
assassin  of  an  exile. — Brigands  of  royal  blood  put 


Contents. 


• •• 

XU 

down  by  Columba  at  the  risk  of  his  life. — He  enters 
into  the  sea  up  to  his  knees  to  arrest  the  pirate  who 
had  pillaged  his  friend.  — The  standard-bearer  of 
Caesar  and  the  old  missionary,  . . .96 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COLUMBA’S  LAST  YEARS — HIS  DEATH — HIS  CHARACTER. 

Columba  the  confidant  of  the  joys  and  consoler  of  the 
sorrows  of  domestic  life. — He  blesses  little  Hector 
with  the  fair  locks.— He  prays  for  a woman  in  her 
delivery;  he  reconciles  the  wife  of  a pilot  to  her 
husband. — Vision  of  the  saved  wife  who  receives 
her  husband  in  heaven. — He  continues  his  missions 
to  the  end  of  his  life. — Visions  before  death. — The 
Angels’  Hill. — Increase  of  austerities. — Nettle-soup 
his  sole  food. — A supernatural  light  surrounds  him 
during  his  nightly  work  and  prayers. — His  death  is 
retarded  for  four  years  by  the  prayers  of  the  com- 
munity.— When  this  respite  has  expired,  he  takes 
leave  of  the  monks  at  their  work  ; he  visits  and 
blesses  the  granaries  of  the  monastery. — He  an- 
nounces his  death  to  his  attendant  Diarmid. — His 
farewell  to  his  old  white  horse. — Last  benediction  to 
the  isle  of  Iona  ; last  work  of  transcription  ; last 
message  to  his  community. — He  dies  in  the  church. 

— Review  of  his  life  and  character,  . . .122 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

SPIRITUAL  DESCENDANTS  OF  ST  COLUMBA. 

His  posthumous  glory : miraculous  visions  on  the  night 
of  his  death : rapid  extension  of  his  worship. — His 
solitary  funeral  and  tomb  at  Iona. — His  translation 


Contents . 


xui 


to  Ireland,  where  he  rests  between  St  Patrick  and  St 
Bridget.— He  is,  like  Bridget,  feared  by  the  Anglo- 
Norman  conquerors. — John  de  Courcy  and  Richard 
Strongbow. — The  Vengeance  of  Columba.  Suprem- 
acy of  Iona  over  the  Celtic  churches  of  Caledonia 
and  the  north  of  Ireland.— Singular  privilege  and 
primacy  of  the  abbot  of  Iona  in  respect  to  bishops. 
The  ecclesiastical  organisation  of  Celtic  countries  ex- 
clusively monastic. — Moderation  and  respect  of  Co- 
lumba for  the  episcopal  rank. — He  left  behind  him 
no  special  rule. — That  which  he  followed  differed  in 
no  respect  from  the  usual  customs  of  the  monastic 
order,  which  proves  the  exact  observance  of  all  the 
precepts  of  the  Church,  and  the  chimerical  nature  of 
all  speculations  upon  the  primitive  Protestantism  of 
the  Celtic  Church.— But  he  founded  an  order,  which 
lasted  several  centuries  under  the  title  of  the  Family 
of  Columb-kill.  — The  clan  and  family  spirit  was  the 
governing  principle  of  Scottish  monasticism. — Baithen 
and  the  eleven  first  successors  of  Columba  at  Iona 
were  all  members  of  the  same  race. — The  two  lines, 
lay  and  ecclesiastical,  of  the  great  founders.— The 
headquarters  of  the  order  transferred  from  Iona  to 
Kells,  one  of  Columba’ s foundations  in  Ireland. — The 
Coarbs. — Posthumous  influence  of  Columba  upon 
the  Church  of  Ireland.— Lex  Columcille.  —Monastic 
Ireland  in  the  seventh  century  the  principal  centre  of 
Christian  knowledge  and  piety.— Each  monastery  a 
school. — The  transcription  of  manuscripts,  which 
had  been  one  of  Columba’s  favourite  occupations, 
continued  and  extended  by  his  family  even  upon  the 
continent.— Historic  annals. — The  Festiloge  of  Angus 
the  Culdee.— The  Culdees. — Propagation  of  Irish 
monasticism  abroad. — Irish  saints  and  monasteries 
in  France,  Germany,  and  Italy.— The  Irish  saint 
Cathal  venerated  in  Calabria  under  the  name  of  San 
Cataldo . — Monastic  university  of  Lismore  : crowd 
of  foreign  students,  especially  of  Anglo-Saxons,  in 


XIV 


Contents. 


Irish  monasteries. — Confusion  of  temporal  affairs  in 
Ireland.  — Civil  wars  and  massacres. — Notes  upon 
king-monks. — Patriotic  intervention  of  the  monks. — 
Adamnan,  biographer  and  ninth  successor  of  Colum- 
ba,  and  his  Law  of  the  Innocents. — They  are  driven 
from  their  cloisters  by  the  English. — Influence  of 
Columba  in  Scotland. — Traces  of  the  ancient  Cale- 
donian Church  in  the  Hebrides. — Apostolical  mission 
of  Kentigern  in  the  country  between  the  Clyde  and 
the  Mersey. — His  meeting  with  Columba His  con- 

nection with  the  king  and  queen  of  Strathclyde. — 
Legend  of  the  queen’s  ring. — Neither  Columba  nor 
Kentigern  acted  upon  the  Anglo-Saxons,  who  con- 
tinued pagans,  and  maintained  a threatening  attitude. 

— The  last  bishops  of  conquered  Britain  desert  their 
churches,  . . . . . .138 


3 


ST  COLUMBA. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Zty  ¥outf)  of  ©olumfm  an?)  jjtss  JHonagttc  ffitfe 
tn  Irelant). 


T COLUMBA,  the  apostle  and  monas- 
tic hero  of  Caledonia,  has  had  the 
good  fortune  to  have  his  history  writ- 
ten  by  another  monk,  almost  a con- 
temporary of  his  own,  whose  biography  of  him  is  as 
delightful  as  it  is  edifying.  This  biographer,  Adam- 
nan,  was  the  ninth  successor  of  Columba  as  abbot 
of  his  principal  establishment  at  Iona,  and  in  addi- 
tion was  related  to  him.  Born  only  a quarter  of  a 
century  later,  he  had  seen  in  his  childhood  the 
actual  companions  of  Columba  and  those  who  had 
received  his  last  breath.  He  wrote  at  the  very 
fountainhead,  on  the  spot  where  his  glorious  prede- 


2 


His  various  Names. 


cessor  had  dictated  his  last  words,  surrounded  by 
scenes  and  recollections  which  still  bore  the  trace 
of  his  presence,  or  were  connected  with  the  inci- 
dents of  his  life.  A still  earlier  narrative  written  by 
another  abbot  of  Iona,  and  reproduced  almost  word 
for  word  by  Adamnan,  forms  the  basis  of  his  work, 
which  he  has  completed  by  a multitude  of  anec- 
dotes and  testimonies  collected  with  scrupulous 
care,  and  which  altogether,  though  unfortunately 
without  chronological  order,  forms  one  of  the  most 
living,  attractive,  and  authentic  relics  of  Christian 
history.* 

Like  twenty  other  saints  of  the  Irish  calendar, 
Columba  bore  a symbolical  name  borrowed  from 
the  Latin,  a name  which  signified  the  dove  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  which  was  soon  to  be  rendered 
illustrious  by  his  countryman  Columbanus,  the  cele- 
brated founder  of  Luxeuil,  with  whom  many  modern 
historians  have  confounded  him.  To  distinguish 
the  one  from  the  other,  and  to  indicate  specially  the 
greatest  Celtic  missionary  of  the  British  Isles,  we 
shall  adopt,  from  the  different  versions  of  his  name, 
that  of  Columba.  His  countrymen  have  almost 
always  named  him  Columb-kiU  or  cille,  that  is  to 
say,  the  dove  of  the  cell , thus  adding  to  his  primitive 

* Adamnan,  who  was  born  in  624,  must  have  written  the 
biography  of  St  Columba  between  690  and  703,  a period  at 
which  he  gave  up  the  liturgical  traditions  of  the  Scots  and 
the  direction  of  the  Monastery  of  Iona  to  settle  near  the 
Anglo-Saxon  king  of  Northumbria,  Aldfrid. 


Race  from  which  descended . 3. 

name  a special  designation,  intended  to  recall  either 
the  essentially  monastic  character  of  the  saint,  or 
the  great  number  of  communities  founded  and 
governed  by  him.  He  was  a scion  of  one  of  those 
great  Irish  races,  of  whom  it  is  literally  true  to  say 
that  they  lose  themselves  in  the  night  of  ages,  but 
which  have  retained  to  our  own  day,  thanks  to  the 
tenacious  attachment  of  the  Irish  people  to  their 
national  recollections,  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
conquest,  persecution,  and  exile,  a rank  more  patri- 
otic and  popular  than  that  of  mere  nobility  or  aris- 
tocratic lineage.  This  was  the  great  race  of  the 
Nialls  or  O’Donnells  ( clan  Domhnaill ),  which, 
native  to  and  master  of  all  the  north-western  part 
of  the  island  (the  modern  counties  of  Tyrconnell, 
Tyrone,  and  Donegal),  held  sovereign  sway  in  Hi- 
bernia and  Caledonia,  over  the  two  shores  of  the 
Scottish  sea,  during  the  sixth  century.  Almost 
without  interruption,  up  to  1168,  kings,  springing 
from  its  different  branches,  exercised  in  Ireland  the 
supreme  monarchy — that  is  to  say,  a sort  of  primacy 
over  the  provincial  kings,  which  has  been  compared 
to  that  of  metropolitan  over  bishops,  but  which 
rather  recalls  the  feudal  sovereignty  of  the  Salic 
emperors,  or  of  the  kings  of  the  family  of  Capet 
over  the  great  vassals  of  Germany  and  France,  in 
the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries.  Nothing  could 
be  more  unsettled  or  stormy  than  the  exercise  of 
this  sovereignty.  It  was  incessantly  disputed  by 
some  vassal  king,  who  generally  succeeded  by  force 


4 


The  O'  Neills  and  O'  Donnells. 


of  arms  in  robbing  the  supreme  monarch  of  his 
crown  and  his  life,  and  replacing  him  upon  the 
throne  of  Tara,  with  a tolerable  certainty  of  being 
himself  similarly  treated  by  the  son  of  the  dethroned 
prince.  Besides,  the  right  of  succession  in  Ireland 
was  not  regulated  by  the  law  of  primogeniture. 
According  to  the  custom  known  under  the  name 
of  Tanistry , the  eldest  blood -relation  succeeded 
every  deceased  prince  or  chief,  and  the  brother 
in  consequence  preceded  the  son  in  the  order  of 
succession. 

After  the  English  conquest,  the  warlike  and 
powerful  race  of  Nialls  was  able  to  maintain,  by 
dint  of  dauntless  perseverance,  a sort  of  indepen- 
dent sovereignty  in  the  north-west  of  Ireland.  The 
names  of  the  O’Neills  and  O’Donnells,  chiefs  of  its 
two  principal  branches,  and  too  often  at  war  with 
each  other,  are  to  be  found  on  every  page  of  the 
annals  of  unhappy  Ireland.  After  the  Reformation, 
when  religious  persecution  had  come  in  to  aggra- 
vate all  the  evils  of  the  conquest,  these  two  houses 
supplied  their  indignant  and  unsubdued  country 
with  a succession  of  heroic  soldiers  who  struggled 
to  the  death  against  the  perfidious  and  sanguinary 
despotism  of  the  Tudors  and  Stuarts.  Ten  cen- 
turies passed  in  such  desperate  struggles  have  not 
weakened  the  traditions  which  link  the  saint  whose 
history  we  are  about  to  tell  to  those  champions  of 
an  ancient  faith  and  an  outraged  country.  Even 
under  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  the  vassals  of  young 


5 


Parentage  of  the  Saint . 

Hugh  O’Donnell,  called  Red  Hugh,  so  renowned 
in  the  poetical  records  and  popular  traditions  of 
Erin,  and  the  most  dangerous  antagonist  of  English 
tyranny,  recognised  in  him  the  hero  indicated  in 
the  prophetic  songs  of  Columb-kill,  and  thus  placed 
his  glory  and  that  of  his  ancestors  under  the  wing 
of  the  Dove  of  the  cells , as  under  a patronage  at  once 
domestic  and  celestial. 

The  father  of  Columba  was  descended  from  one 
of  the  eight  sons  of  the  great  king  Niall,  of  the 
Nine  Hostages,  who  was  supreme  monarch  of  all 

Ireland  from  379  to  4°5>  at  the  Period  when 
Patrick  was  brought  to  the  island  as  a slave. 
Consequently  he  sprang  from  a race  which  had 
reigned  in  Ireland  for  six  centuries ; and  in  virtue 
of  the  ordinary  law  of  succession,  might  himself 
have  been  called  to  the  throne.  His  mother  be- 
longed to  a reigning  family  in  Leinster,  one  of  the 
four  subordinate  kingdoms  of  the  island.  He  was 
born  at  Gartan,  in  one  of  the  wildest  districts  of 
the  present  county  of  Donegal — where  the  slab  of 
stone  upon  which  his  mother  lay  at  the  moment  of 
his  birth  is  still  shown.  He  who  passes  a night 
upon  that  stone  is  cured  for  ever  from  the  pangs  of 
nostalgia,  and  will  never  be  consumed,  while  absent 
or  in  exile,  by  a too  passionate  love  for  his  country. 
Such  at  least  is  the  belief  of  the  poor  Irish  emi- 
grants, who  flock  thither  at  the  moment  when  they 
are  about  to  abandon  the  confiscated  and  ravaged 
soil  of  their  country  to  seek  their  living  in  America, 


6 Prophetic  Dream . 

moved  by  a touching  recollection  of  the  great  mis- 
sionary who  gave  up  his  native  land  for  the  love  of 
God  and  human  souls. 

Before  his  birth,  his  mother  had  a dream,  which 
posterity  has  accepted  as  a graceful  and  poetical 
symbol  of  her  son’s  career.  An  angel  appeared  to 
her,  bringing  her  a veil  covered  with  flowers  of 
wonderful  beauty,  and  the  sweetest  variety  of 
colours ; immediately  after  she  saw  the  veil  carried 
away  by  the  wind,  and  rolling  out  as  it  fled  over 
plains,  woods,  and  mountains  : then  the  angel  said 
to  her,  “ Thou  art  about  to  become  the  mother  of 
a son,  who  shall  blossom  for  heaven,  who  shall  be 
reckoned  among  the  prophets  of  God,  and  who 
shall  lead  numberless  souls  to  the  heavenly  coun- 
try.” This  spiritual  power,  this  privilege  of  leading 
souls  to  heaven,  was  recognised  by  the  Irish  people, 
converted  by  St  Patrick,  as  the  greatest  glory  which 
its  princes  and  great  men  could  gain. 

The  Irish  legends,  which  are  always  distinguished, 
even  amidst  the  wildest  vagaries  of  fancy,  by  a high 
and  pure  morality,  linger  lovingly  upon  the  child- 
hood and  youth  of  the  predestined  saint.  They 
tell  us  how,  confided  in  the  first  place  to  the  care 
of  the  priest  who  had  baptised  him,  and  who  gave 
him  the  first  rudiments  of  literary  education,  he  was 
accustomed  from  his  earliest  years  to  the  heavenly 
visions  which  were  to  occupy  so  large  a place  in 
his  life.  His  guardian  angel  often  appeared  to 
him ; and  the  child  asked  if  all  the  angels  in  heaven 


j. 


7 


Legends  of  his  Youth . 

were  as  young  and  shining  as  he.  A little  later 
Columba  was  invited  by  the  same  angel  to  choose 
among  all  the  virtues  those  which  he  would  like  / 
best  to  possess.  “ I choose,”  said  the  youth,  “ chas- 
tity and  wisdom;”  and  immediately  three  young 
girls  of  wonderful  beauty,  but  foreign  air,  appeared 
to  him,  and  threw  themselves  on  his  neck  to 
embrace  him.  The  pious  youth  frowned,  and  re- 
pulsed them  with  indignation.  “ What !”  they  said  ; 
te  then  thou  dost  not  know  us?”  “No,  not  the 
least  in  the  world.”  “ We  are  three  sisters  whom 
our  father  gives  to  thee  to  be  thy  brides.”  “ Who, 
then,  is  your  father  ? ” “ Our  father  is  God,  he  is 

Jesus  Christ,  the  Lord  and  Saviour  of  the  world.” 

“ Ah,  you  have  indeed  an  illustrious  father.  But 
what  are  your  names  ?”  “ Our  names  are  Virginity, 
Wisdom,  and  Prophecy;  and  we  come  to  leave 
thee  no  more,  to  love  thee  with  an  incorruptible 
love.” 

From  the  house  of  the  priest,  Columba  passed 
into  the  great  monastic  schools,  which  were  not 
only  a nursery  for  the  clergy  of  the  Irish  Church, 
but  where  also  young  laymen  of  all  conditions  were 
educated.  Columba,  like  many  others,  there 
learned  to  make  his  first  steps  in  that  monastic  life 
to  which  he  had  been  drawn  by  the  call  of  God. 
He  devoted  himself  not  only  to  study  and  prayer, 
but  also  to  the  manual  toil  then  inseparable,  in 
Ireland  and  everywhere  else,  from  a religious  pro- 
fession. Like  all  his  young  companions,  he  had  to 


8 


His  early  Training. 

grind  overnight  the  com  for  the  next  day’s  food : 
but  when  his  turn  came,  it  was  so  well  and  quickly 
done  that  his  companions  suspected  him  of  having 
been  assisted  by  an  angel.  The  royal  birth  of 
Columba  procured  him  several  distinctions  in  the 
schools  which  were  not  always  to  the  satisfaction 
of  his  comrades.  One  of  the  latter,  named  Kieran, 
who  was  also  destined  to  fill  a great  place  in  Scotic 
legend,  became  indignant  at  the  ascendancy  of 
Columba : but  while  the  two  students  disputed, 
a celestial  messenger  came  to  Kieran  and  placed 
before  him  an  auger,  a plane,  and  an  axe,  saying, 
“ Look  at  these  tools,  and  recollect  that  these  are 
all  thou  hast  sacrificed  for  God,  since  thy  father  was 
only  a carpenter;  but  Columba  has  sacrificed  the 
sceptre  of  Ireland,  which  might  have  come  to  him 
by  right  of  his  birth  and  the  grandeur  of  his  race.” 
We  learn  from  authentic  documents  that  Columba 
completed  his  monastic  life  under  the  direction  of 
two  holy  abbots,  both  bearing  the  name  of  Finnian. 
The  first,  who  was  also  a bishop,  ordained  him 
deacon,  but  seems  to  have  had  him  for  a shorter 
time  under  his  authority  than  the  second  Finnian, 
who,  himself  trained  by  a disciple  of  St  Patrick, 
had  long  lived  in  Cambria,  near  St  David.  Co- 
lumba’s  first  steps  in  life  are  thus  connected  with 
the  two  great  monastic  apostles  of  Ireland  and 
Cambria,  the  patriarchs  of  the  two  Celtic  races 
which  up  to  this  time  had  shown  the  most  entire 
fidelity  to  the  Christian  faith,  and  the  greatest 


The  Abbot  Finnian. 


9 


predilection  for  monastic  life.  The  Abbot  Finnian, 
who  ordained  Columba  priest,  ruled  at  Clonard  the 
monastery  which  he  had  founded,  and  of  which  we 
have  already  spoken— one  of  those  immense  con- 
ventual establishments  which  were  to  be  found 
nowhere  but  among  the  Celts,  and  which  recalled 
to  recollection  the  monastic  towns  of  the  Theba'id. 
He  had  made  of  his  monastery  one  great  school, 
which  was  filled  with  the  Irish  youth,  then,  as 
always,  consumed  by  a thirst  for  religious  instruc- 
tion ; and  we  again  find  here  the  favourite  number, 
so  often  repeated  by  Celtic  tradition,  of  three  thou- 
sand pupils,  all  eager  to  receive  the  instructions  of 
him  who  was  called  the  Master  of  Saints. 

While  Columba  studied  at  Clonard,  being  still 
only  a deacon,  an  incident  took  place  which  has 
been  proved  by  authentic  testimony,  and  which 
fixed  the  general  attention  upon  him  by  giving  a 
first  evidence  of  his  supernatural  and  prophetic  in- 
tuition. An  old  Christian  bard  (the  bards  were 
not  all  Christians),  named  Gemmain,  had  come  to 
live  near  the  Abbot  Finnian,  asking  from  him,  m 
exchange  for  his  poetry,  the  secret  of  fertilising  the 
soil.  Columba,  who  continued  all  his  life  a passion- 
ate admirer  of  the  traditionary  poetry  of  his  nation, 
determined  to  join  the  school  of  the  bard,  and  to 
share  his  labours  and  studies.  The  two  were  read- 
ing together  out  of  doors,  at  a little  distance  from 
each  other,  when  a young  girl  appeared  in  the  dis- 
tance pursued  by  a robber.  At  the  sight  of  the 


io  Death  of  a Murderer . 

old  man  the  young  fugitive  made  for  him  with  all 
her  remaining  strength,  hoping,  no  doubt,  to  find 
safety  in  the  authority  exercised  throughout  Ire- 
land by  the  national  poets.  Gemmain,  in  great 
trouble,  called  his  pupil  to  his  aid  to  defend  the 
unfortunate  child,  who  was  trying  to  hide  herself 
under  their  long  robes,  when  her  pursuer  reached 
the  spot.  Without  taking  any  notice  of  her 
defenders,  he  struck  her  in  the  neck  with  his  lance, 
and  was  making  off,  leaving  her  dead  at  their  feet. 
The  horrified  old  man  turned  to  Columba.  “ How 
long,”  he  said,  “will  God  leave  unpunished  this 
crime  which  dishonours  us  ? ” “ For  this  moment 

only,”  said  Columba,  “not  longer:  at  this  very 
hour,  when  the  soul  of  this  innocent  creature 
ascends  to  heaven,  the  soul  of  the  murderer  shall 
go  down  to  hell.”  At  the  instant,  like  Ananias  at 
the  words  of  Peter,  the  assassin  fell  dead.  The 
news  of  this  sudden  punishment,  the  story  goes, 
went  over  all  Ireland,  and  spread  the  fame  of  the 
young  Columba  far  and  wide. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive,  by  the  importance  of  the 
monastic  establishments  which  he  had  brought  into 
being  even  before  he  had  attained  the  age  of  man- 
hood, that  his  influence  must  have  been  as  precoci- 
ous as  it  was  considerable.  Apart  from  the  virtues 
of  which  his  after  life  afforded  so  many  examples, 
it  may  be  supposed  that  his  royal  birth  gave  him 
an  irresistible  ascendancy  in  a country  where,  since 
the  introduction  of  Christianity,  all  the  early  saints,  j 


Monasteries  founded  by  the  Saint . 1 i 

like  the  principal  abbots,  belonged  to  reigning 
families,  and  where  the  influence  of  blood  and  the 
worship  of  genealogy  continue,  even  to  this  day,  to 
a degree  unknown  in  other  lands.  Springing,  as 
has  been  said,  from  the  same  race  as  the  monarch 
of  all  Ireland,  and  consequently  himself  eligible  for 
the  same  high  office,  which  was  more  frequently 
obtained  by  election  or  usurpation  than  inheritance 
— nephew  or  near  cousin  of  the  seven  monarchs 
who  successively  wielded  the  supreme  authority 
during  his  life — he  was  also  related  by  ties  of  blood 
to  almost  all  the  provincial  kings.  Thus  we  see 
him,  during  his  whole  career,  treated  on  a footing 
of  perfect  intimacy  and  equality  by  all  the  princes 
of  Ireland  and  of  Caledonia,  and  exercising  a sort 
of  spiritual  sway  equal  or  superior  to  the  authority 
of  secular  sovereigns. 

Before  he  had  reached  the  age  of  twenty-five  he 
had  presided  over  the  creation  of  a crowd  of  mon- 
asteries. As  many  as  thirty-seven  in  Ireland  alone 
recognised  him  as  their  founder.  The  most  an- 
cient and  important  of  these  foundations  were  situ- 
ated, as  was  formerly  that  of  St  Bridget  at  Kildare, 
in  vast  oak-forests,  from  which  they  took  their 
name.  The  first  Durrow  ( Dair-mack , Roboreti  cam- 
pus), where  a cross  and  well  bearing  the  name  of 
Columba  are  still  to  be  seen,  was  erected  in  the 
central  region  called  the  umbilical ’ or  sacred  middle 
of  Ireland.  The  other,  Derry  (. Doire-chalgaich  Ro- 
boretum  Calgachi),  is  situated  in  the  northern  part 


12  Monastery  of  Derry . 

of  the  island,  in  Columba’s  native  province,  in  the 
hollow  of  a bay  of  that  sea  which  separates  Ireland 
from  Scotland.  After  having  long  been  the  seat  of 
a great  and  rich  Catholic  bishopric,  it  became,  un- 
der its  modern  name  of  Londonderry,  one  of  the 
principal  centres  of  English  colonisation,  and  was, 
in  1690,  the  bulwark  of  the  Protestant  conquest 
against  the  powerless  efforts  of  the  last  of  the 
Stuart  kings.  But  nothing  then  indicated  the  pos- 
sibility of  those  lamentable  changes,  nor  of  the 
miserable  triumphs  of  inhuman  force  and  wicked 
persecution. 

The  young  Columba  was  specially  attached  to 
Derry,  where  he  habitually  lived.  He  superin- 
tended with  care  not  only  the  discipline  and 
studies  of  his  community,  but  external  matters, 
even  so  far  as  to  watch  over  the  preservation  of  the 
neighbouring  forest.  He  would  never  permit  an 
oak  to  be  cut  down.  Those  which  fell  by  natural 
decay,  or  were  struck  down  by  the  wind,  were  alone 
made  use  of  for  the  fire  which  was  lighted  on  the 
arrival  of  strangers,  or  distributed  to  the  neighbour- 
ing poor.  The  poor  had  a first  right,  in  Ireland,  as 
everywhere  else,  to  the  goods  of  the  monks ; and 
the  Monastery  of  Derry  fed  a hundred  applicants 
every  day  with  methodical  regularity. 

At  a more  advanced  age  our  saint  gave  vent  to 
his  tenderness  for  his  monastic  creations  in  songs, 
an  echo  of  which  has  come  down  to  us.  The  text 
of  these  songs,  such  as  has  been  preserved,  is  pro-j 


13 


His  affection  for  it . 

bably  later  than  Columba;  but  it  is  written  in  the 
oldest  Irish  dialect,  and  it  expresses,  naturally 
enough,  the  sentiments  of  the  founder  and  his 
disciples : — 

“ Were  all  the  tribute  of  Scotia  * mine, 

From  its  midland  to  its  borders, 

I would  give  all  for  one  little  cell 
In  my  beautiful  Derry. 

For  its  peace  and  for  its  purity, 

For  the  white  angels  that  go 
In  crowds  from  one  end  to  the  other, 

I love  my  beautiful  Derry. 

For  its  quietness  and  its  purity, 

For  heaven’s  angels  that  come  and  go 
Under  every  leaf  of  the  oaks, 

I love  my  beautiful  Derry. 

My  Derry,  my  fair  oak  grove, 

My  dear  little  cell  and  dwelling, 

O God  in  the  heavens  above  ! 

Let  him  who  profanes  it  be  cursed. 

Beloved  are  Durrow  and  Derry, 

Beloved  is  Raphoe  the  pure, 


* Let  us  repeat  here  that  the  names  of  Scotia,  Scotti , when 
they  occur  in  works  of  the  seventh  to  the  twelfth  century,  are 
almost  exclusively  applied  to  Ireland  and  the  Irish,  and  were 
extended  later  to  Scotland  proper,  the  north  and  west  of  which 
were  peopled  by  a colony  of  Irish  Scots,  only  at  a later  period. 
From  thence  comes  the  name  of  Erse,  Erysche,  or  Irish , re- 
tained up  to  our  own  day,  by  the  Irish  dialect,  otherwise 
called  Gaelic.  In  Adamnan,  as  in  Bede,  Scotia  means  Ire- 
land, and  modern  Scotland  is  comprehended  m the  general 
title  of  Britannia.  At  a later  period  the  name  of  Scotia  dis- 
appeared in  Ireland,  and  became  identified  with  the  country 
conquered  and  colonised  by  the  Scots  in  Scotland,  like  that  of 
Anglia  in  Britain,  and  Francia  in  Gaul. 


14  The  Saint  as  a Minstrel. 

Beloved  the  fertile  Drumhome, 

Beloved  are  Sords  and  Kells  ! 

But  sweeter  and  fairer  to  me 
The  salt  sea  where  the  sea-gulls  cry 
When  I come  to  Derry  from  far, 

It  is  sweeter  and  dearer  to  me— 

Sweeter  to  me.  ” 

Nor  was  it  only  his  own  foundations  which  he 
thus  celebrated  : another  poem  has  been  preserved 
which  is  attributed  to  him,  and  which  is  dedicated 
to  the  glory  of  the  monastic  isle  of  Arran,  situated 
upon  the  western  coast  of  Ireland,  where  he  had 
gone  to  venerate  the  inhabitants  and  the  sanctua- 
ries : — 

“O  Arran,  my  sun;  my  heart  is  in  the  west  with  thee. 
To  sleep  on  thy  pure  soil  is  as  good  as  to  be  buried  in  the 
land  of  St  Peter  and  St  Paul.  To  live  within  the  sound  of 
thy  bells  is  to  live  in  joy.  O Arran,  my  sun,  my  love  is  in 
the  west  with  thee.  ” 

These  poetic  effusions  reveal  Columba  to  us 
under  one  of  his  most  attractive  aspects,  as  one  of 
the  minstrels  of  the  national  poetry  of  Ireland,  the 
intimate  union  of  which  with  the  Catholic  faith,  and 
its  unconquerable  empire  over  the  souls  of  that 
generous  people,  can  scarcely  be  exaggerated.  Co- 
lumba was  not  only  himself  a poet,  but  lived  always 
in  great  and  affectionate  sympathy  with  the  bards 
who,  at  that  time,  occupied  so  high  a place  in  the 
social  and  political  institutions  of  Ireland,  and  who 
were  to  be  met  with  everywhere,  in  the  palaces  and 
monasteries,  as  on  the  public  roads.  What  he  did 


The  Irish  Bards . 


15 


for  this  powerful  corporation,  and  how,  after  having 
been  their  brother  and  friend,  he  became  their  pro- 
tector and  saviour,  will  be  seen  further  on.  Let  us 
merely  state  at  present  that,  himself  a great  traveller, 
he  received  the  travelling  bards  in  the  different 
communities  where  he  lived ; among  others,  in  that 
which  he  had  built  upon  an  islet  of  the  lake  which  the 
Boyle  traverses  before  it  throws  itself  into  the  Shan- 
non. He  confided  to  them  the  care  of  arranging 
the  monastic  and  provincial  annals,  which  were  to 
be  afterwards  deposited  in  the  charter-chest  of  the 
community ; but,  above  all,  he  made  them  sing  for 
his  own  pleasure  and  that  of  his  monks ; and  the 
latter  reproached  him  energetically  if  he  permitted 
one  of  those  wandering  poets  to  depart  without 
having  asked  to  hear  some  of  his  chants,  accom- 
panied by  his  harp. 

The  monk  Columba  was,  then,  a poet.  After 
Ossian  and  his  glorious  compeer  of  the  Vosges,  he 
opens  the  series  of  two  hundred  Irish  poets,  whose 
memories  and  names,  in  default  of  their  works, 
have  remained  dear  to  Ireland.  He  wrote  his 
verses  not  only  in  Latin,  but  also  and  more  fre- 
quently in  Irish.  Only  three  of  his  Latin  poems 
survive ; but  two  centuries  ago  eleven  of  his  Irish 
poems  were  still  in  existence,  which  have  not  all 
perished,  and  the  most  authentic  of  which  is  dedi- 
cated to  the  glory  of  St  Bridget,  the  virgin  slave, 
patroness  of  Ireland  and  foundress  of  female  reli- 
gious life  in  the  Isle  of  Saints.  She  was  still  living 


1 6 St  Bridget . 

when  Columba  was  born.  Through  the  obscure 
and  halting  efforts  of  this  infantine  poetry,  some 
tones  of  sincere  and  original  feeling  may  yet  be 
disentangled : — 

“ Bridget,  the  good  and  the  virgin, 

Bridget,  our  torch  and  our  sun, 

Bridget,  radiant  and  unseen. 

May  she  lead  us  to  the  eternal  kingdom  ! 

May  Bridget  defend  us 
Against  all  the  troops  of  hell, 

And  all  the  adversities  of  life  ; 

May  she  beat  them  down  before  us. 

All  the  ill  movements  of  the  flesh, 

This  pure  virgin  whom  we  love. 

Worthy  of  honour  without  end. 

May  she  extinguish  in  us. 

Yes,  she  shall  always  be  our  safeguard. 

Dear  saint  of  Lagenia  ; 

After  Patrick  she  comes  the  first. 

The  pillar  of  the  land, 

Glorious  among  all  glories. 

Queen  among  all  queens. 

When  old  age  comes  upon  us, 

May  she  be  to  us  as  the  shirt  of  hair, 

May  she  fill  us  with  her  grace, 

May  Bridget  protect  us.” 

It  seems  thus  apparent  that  Columba  was  as 
much  a bard  as  a monk  during  the  first  part  of  his 
life;  he  had  the  vagabond  inclination,  the  ardent, 
agitated,  even  quarrelsome  character  of  the  race. 
Like  most  Irish  saints  and  even  monks  whom 
history  has  kept  in  mind,  he  had  a passionate  love 
for  travelling;  and  to  that  passion  he  added  an- 
other which  brought  him  more  than  one  misadven- 


i7 


Longarad  and  his  Books . 

ture.  Books,  which  were  less  rare  in  Ireland  than 
everywhere  else,  were  nevertheless  much  sought 
after,  and  guarded  with  jealous  care  in  the  monastic 
libraries,  which  were  their  sole  depositories.  Not 
only  an  excessive  value  was  put  upon  them,  but 
they  were  even  supposed  to  possess  the  emotions 
and  almost  the  passions  of  living  beings.  Columba 
had  a passion  for  fine  manuscripts,  and  one  of  his 
biographers  attributes  to  him  the  laborious  feat  of 
having  transcribed  with  his  own  hand  three  hun- 
dred copies  of  the  Gospel  or  of  the  Psalter.  He 
went  everywhere  in  search  of  volumes  which  he 
could  borrow  or  copy,  often  experiencing  refusals 
which  he  resented  bitterly.  There  was  then  in 
Ossory,  in  the  south-west,  a holy  recluse,  very 
learned,  doctor  in  laws  and  in  philosophy,  named 
Longarad  with  the  white  legs , because  in  walking 
barefoot  his  legs,  which  were  covered  with  white 
hair,  were  visible.  Columba,  having  gone  to  visit 
him,  asked  leave  to  examine  his  books.  The  old 
man  gave  a direct  refusal;  then  Columba  burst 
forth  in  denunciations — “ May  thy  books  no  longer 
do  thee  any  good,  neither  to  thee  nor  to  those  who 
come  after  thee,  since  thou  takest  occasion  by 
them  to  show  thy  inhospitality.”  This  curse  was 
heard,  according  to  the  legend.  As  soon  as  old 
Longarad  died  his  books  became  unintelligible. 
They  still  exist,  says  an  author  of  the  ninth  century, 
but  no  man  can  read  them.  The  legend  adds  that 
in  all  the  schools  of  Ireland,  and  even  in  Columba’ s 

B 


1 8 The  Psalter  of  Finnian . 

own  cell,  the  leathern  satchels  in  which  the  monks 
and  students  carried  their  books,  unhooked  them- 
selves from  the  wall  and  fell  to  the  ground  on  the 
day  of  the  old  philosopher’s  death. 

A similar  narrative,  more  authentic  but  not  less 
singular,  serves  as  an  introduction  to  the  decisive 
event  which  changed  the  destiny  of  Columba,  and 
transformed  him  from  a wandering  poet  and  ardent 
bookworm  into  a missionary  and  apostle.  While 
visiting  his  ancient  master,  Finnian,  our  saint  found 
means  to  make  a clandestine  and  hurried  copy  of 
the  abbot’s  Psalter,  by  shutting  himself  up  at  night 
in  the  church  where  the  Psalter  was  deposited, 
lighting  his  nocturnal  work,  as  happened  to  I know 
not  what  Spanish  saint,  by  the  light  which  escaped 
from  his  left  hand  while  he  wrote  with  the  right. 
The  Abbot  Finnian  discovered  what  was  going  on 
by  means  of  a curious  wanderer,  who,  attracted  by 
that  singular  light,  looked  in  through  the  keyhole, 
and  while  his  face  was  pressed  against  the  door  had 
his  eye  suddenly  torn  out  by  a crane,  one  of  those 
familiar  birds  who  were  permitted  by  the  Irish 
monks  to  seek  a home  in  their  churches.  Indig- 
nant at  what  he  thought  a theft,  Finnian  claimed 
the  copy  when  it  was  finished,  on  the  ground  that 
a copy  made  without  permission  ought  to  belong  to 
the  master  of  the  original,  seeing  that  the  tran- 
scription is  the  son  of  the  original  book.  Columba 
refused  to  give  up  his  work,  and  the  question  was 
referred  to  the  king  in  his  palace  at  Tara. 


i9 


King  Diarmid. 

King  Diarmid,  or  Dermott,  supreme  monarch  of 
Ireland,  was,  like  Columba,  descended  from  the 
great  King  Niall,  but  by  another  son  than  he  whose 
great-grandson  Columba  was.  He  lived,  like  all 
the  princes  of  his  country,  in  a close  union  with 
the  Church,  which  was  represented  in  Ireland,  more 
completely  than  anywhere  else,  by  the  monastic 
order.  Exiled  and  persecuted  in  his  youth,  he  had 
found  refuge  in  an  island,  situated  in  one  of  those 
lakes  which  interrupt  the  course  of  the  Shannon, 
the  chief  river  of  Ireland,  and  had  there  formed  a 
friendship  with  a holy  monk  called  Kieran,  who 
was  no  other  than  the  son  of  the  carpenter,  the 
jealous  comrade  of  Columba  at  the  monastic  school 
of  Clonard,  but  since  that  time  his  generous  rival 
in  knowledge  and  in  austerity.  Upon  the  still 
solitary  bank  of  the  river  the  two  friends  had 
planned  the  foundation  of  a monastery,  which, 
owing  to  the  marshy  nature  of  the  soil,  had  to  be 
built  upon  piles.  “ Plant  with  me  the  first  stake,” 
the  monk  said  to  the  exiled  prince,  “ putting  your 
hand  under  mine ; and  soon  that  hand  shall  be 
over  all  the  men  of  Erin;”  and  it  happened  that 
Diarmid  was  very  shortly  after  called  to  the  throne. 
He  immediately  used  his  new  power  to  endow  richly 
the  monastery  which  was  rendered  doubly  dear  to 
him  by  the  recollection  of  his  exile  and  of  his 
friend.  This  sanctuary  became,  under  the  name 
of  Clonmacnoise,  one  of  the  greatest  monasteries 
and  most  frequented  schools  of  Ireland,  and  even 


20  His  Decision  on  the  Psalter. 

of  Western  Europe.  It  was  so  rich  in  possessions 
and  even  in  dependent  communities,  daughters  or 
vassals  of  its  hierarchical  authority,  that,  according 
to  a popular  saying,  half  of  Ireland  was  contained 
within  the  enclosure  of  Clonmacnoise.  This  en- 
closure actually  contained  nine  churches,  with  two 
round  towers ; the  kings  and  lords  of  the  two 
banks  of  the  Shannon  had  their  burying-place  there 
for  a thousand  years,  upon  a green  height  which 
overlooks  the  marshy  banks  of  the  river.  The 
sadly  picturesque  ruins  may  still  be  seen,  and 
among  them  a stone  cross,  over  which  the  prince 
and  the  abbot,  holding  between  them  the  stake 
consecrated  by  the  legend,  are  roughly  sculp- 
tured. 

This  king  might  accordingly  be  regarded  as  a 
competent  judge  in  a contest  at  once  monastic  and 
literary;  he  might  even  have  been  suspected  of 
partiality  for  Columba,  his  kinsman — and  yet  he 
pronounced  against  him.  His  judgment  was  given 
in  a rustic  phrase  which  has  passed  into  a proverb 
in  Ireland  — To  every  cow  her  calf,  and,  conse- 
quently, to  every  book  its  copy.  Columba  pro- 
tested loudly.  “ It  is  an  unjust  sentence,”  he  said, 
“ and  I will  revenge  myself.”  After  this  incident 
a young  prince,  son  of  the  provincial  king  of  Con- 
naught, who  was  pursued  for  having  committed  an 
involuntary  murder,  took  refuge  with  Columba,  but 
was  seized  and  put  to  death  by  the  king.  The 
irritation  of  the  poet-monk  knew  no  bounds.  The 


2 1 


Flight  of  St  Columba. 

ecclesiastical  immunity  which  he  enjoyed  in  his 
quality  of  superior  and  founder  of  several  monas- 
teries ought  to  have,  in  his  opinion,  created  a sort 
of  sanctuary  around  his  person,  and  this  immunity 
had  been  scandalously  violated  by  the  execution  of 
the  youth  whom  he  protected.  He  threatened  the 
king  with  prompt  vengeance.  “ I will  denounce,” 
he  said,  “ to  my  brethren  and  my  kindred  thy 
wicked  judgment,  and  the  violation  in  my  person 
of  the  immunity  of  the  Church ; they  will  listen  to 
my  complaint,  and  punish  thee  sword  in  hand. 
Bad  king,  thou  shalt  no  more  see  my  face  in  thy 
province  until  God,  the  just  Judge,  has  subdued 
thy  pride.  As  thou  hast  humbled  me  to-day  before 
thy  lords  and  thy  friends,  God  will  humble  thee  on 
the  battle  day  before  thine  enemies.”  Diarmid 
attempted  to  retain  him  by  force  in  the  neighbour- 
hood ; but,  evading  the  vigilance  of  his  guards,  he 
escaped  by  night  from  the  court  of  Tara,  and  di- 
rected his  steps  to  his  native  province  of  Tyrcon- 
nell.  His  first  stage  was  Monasterboyce,  where  he 
heard  from  the  monks  that  the  king  had  planted 
guards  on  all  the  ordinary  roads  to  intercept  him. 
He  then  continued,  his  course  by  a solitary  path- 
way over  the  desert  hills  which  lay  between  him 
and  the  north  of  Ireland ; and  as  he  went  upon  his 
lonely  way,  his  soul  found  utterance  in  a pious 
song.  He  fled,  chanting  the  ‘ Song  of  Trust,’ 
which  has  been  preserved  to  us,  and  which  may  be 
reckoned  among  the  most  authentic  relics  of  the 


22 


The  Song  of  Trust . 

ancient  Irish  tongue.  We  quote  from  it  the  fol- 
lowing verses : — 

“ Alone  am  I on  the  mountain, 

O royal  Sun  ; prosper  my  path, 

And  then  I shall  have  nothing  to  fear. 

Were  I guarded  by  six  thousand, 

Though  they  might  defend  my  skin, 

When  the  hour  of  death  is  fixed, 

Were  I guarded  by  six  thousand, 

In  no  fortress  could  I be  safe. 

Even  in  a church  the  wicked  are  slain, 

Even  in  an  isle  amidst  a lake  ; 

But  God’s  elect  are  safe 
Even  in  the  front  of  battle. 

No  man  can  kill  me  before  my  day, 

Even  had  we  closed  in  combat ; 

And  no  man  can  save  my  life 
When  the  hour  of  death  has  come. 

My  life  ! 

As  God  pleases  let  it  be  ; 

Nought  can  be  taken  from  it, 

Nought  can  be  added  to  it  : 

The  lot  which  God  has  given 
Ere  a man  dies  must  be  lived  out. 

He  who  seeks  more,  were  he  a prince, 

Shall  not  a mite  obtain. 

A guard  ! 

A guard  may  guide  him  on  his  way ; 

But  can  they,  can  they,  guard 
Against  the  touch  of  death  ? . . . 

Forget  thy  poverty  a while  ; 

Let  us  think  of  the  world’s  hospitality. 

The  Son  of  Mary  will  prosper  thee, 

And  every  guest  shall  have  his  share. 

Many  a time 

What  is  spent  returns  to  the  bounteous  hand, 
And  that  which  is  kept  back 
Not  the  less  has  passed  away. 


23 


The  Song  of  Trust. 

0 living  God ! 

Alas  for  him  who  evil  works  ! 

That  which  he  thinks  not  of  comes  to  him, 

That  which  he  hopes  vanishes  out  of  his  hand. 

There  is  no  Sreod*  that  can  tell  our  fate, 

Nor  bird  upon  the  branch, 

N or  trunk  of  gnarled  oak.  . . . 

Better  is  He  in  whom  we  trust, 

The  King  who  has  made  us  all, 

Who  will  not  leave  me  to-night  without  refuge. 

1 adore  not  the  voice  of  birds, 

Nor  chance,  nor  the  love  of  a son  or  a wife. 

My  Druid  is  Christ,  the  Son  of  God, 

The  Son  of  Mary,  the  great  Abbot, 

The  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit. 

My  lands  are  with  the  King  of  kings  ; 

My  order  at  Kells  and  at  Moone.” 

“ Thus  sang  Columba,”  says  the  preface  to  this 
< Song  of  Trust,’  “ on  his  lonely  journey ; and  this 
song  will  protect  him  who  repeats  it  while  he 
travels.” 

Columba  arrived  safely  in  his  province,  and  im- 
mediately set  to  work  to  excite  against  King 
Diarmid  the  numerous  and  powerful  clans  of  his 
relatives  and  friends,  who  belonged  to  a branch  of 
the  house  of  Niall  distinct  from  and  hostile  to  that 
of  the  reigning  monarch.  His  efforts  were  crowned 
with  success.  The  Hy-Nialls  of  the  North  armed 
eagerly  against  the  Hy-Nialls  of  the  South,  of  whom 

* An  unknown  Druidical  term,  probably  meaning  some 
pagan  superstition  of  the  same  description  as  the  flight  o 
birds  and  the  knots  in  the  trees,  mentioned  immediately 
after. 


24  Battle  of  Citl-Dreimkne. 

Diarmid  was  the  special  chief.  They  naturally 
obtained  the  aid  of  the  king  of  Connaught,  father 
of  the  young  prince  who  had  been  executed.  Ac- 
cording to  other  narratives,  the  struggle  was  one 
between  the  Nialls  of  the  North  and  the  Piets 
established  in  the  centre  of  Ireland.  But  in  any 
case,  it  was  the  north  and  west  of  Ireland  which 
took  arms  against  the  supreme  king.  Diarmid' 
marched  to  meet  them,  and  they  met  in  battle 
at  Cool-Drewny,  or  Cul-Dreimhne,  upon  the  bor- 
ders of  Ultonia  and  Connacia.  He  was  completely 
beaten,  and  obliged  to  take  refuge  at  Tara.  The 
victory  was  due,  according  to  the  annalist  Tigher- 
nach,  to  the  prayers  and  songs  of  Columba,  who 
had  fasted  and  prayed  with  all  his  might  to  obtain 
from  Heaven  the  punishment  of  the  royal  inso- 
lence, and  who,  besides,  was  present  at  the  battle, 
and  took  upon  himself  before  all  men  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  bloodshed. 

As  for  the  manuscript  which  had  been  the  object 
of  this  strange  conflict  of  copyright  elevated  into  a 
civil  war,  it  was  afterwards  venerated  as  a kind  of 
national,  military,  and  religious  palladium.  Under 
the  name  of  Cathac , or  Fighter , the  Latin  Psalter 
transcribed  by  Columba,  enshrined  in  a sort  of 
portable  altar,  became  the  national  relic  of  the 
O’Donnell  clan.  For  more  than  a thousand  years 
it  was  carried  with  them  to  battle  as  a pledge  of 
victory,  on  the  condition  of  being  supported  upon 
the  breast  of  a clerk  pure  from  all  mortal  sin.  It 


25 


Remorse  of  the  Saint . 

has  escaped  as  by  miracle  from  the  ravages  of 
which  Ireland  has  been  the  victim,  and  exists  still, 
to  the  great  joy  of  all  learned  Irish  patriots. 

Columba,  though  victor,  had  soon  to  undergo 
the  double  reaction  of  personal  remorse  and  the 
condemnation  of  many  pious  souls.  The  latter 
punishment  was  the  first  to  be  felt.  He  was  ac- 
cused, by  a synod  convoked  in  the  centre  of  the 
royal  domain  at  Teilte,  of  having  occasioned  the 
shedding  of  Christian  blood,  and  sentence  of  ex- 
communication  was  in  his  absence  pronounced 
against  him.  Perhaps  this  accusation  was  not  en- 
tirely confined  to  the  war  which  had  been  raised 
on  account  of  the  copied  Psalter.  His  excitable 
and  vindictive  character,  and,  above  all,  his  pas- 
sionate attachment  to  his  relatives,  and  the  violent 
part  which  he  took  in  their  domestic  disputes  and 
in  their  continually  recurring  rivalries,  had  engaged 
him  in  other  struggles,  the  date  of  which  is  perhaps 
later  than  that  of  his  first  departure  from  Ireland, 
but  the  responsibility  of  which  is  formally  imputed 
to  him  by  various  authorities,  and  which  also  ended 
in  bloody  battles. 

Columba  was  not  a man  to  draw  back  before  his 
accusers  and  judges.  He  presented  himself  before 
the  synod  which  had  struck  without  hearing  him. 
He  found  a defender  there  in  the  famous  Abbot 
Brendan,  the  founder  of  the  Monastery  of  Birr. 
When  Columba  made  his  appearance,  this  abbot 
rose,  went  up  to  him,  and  embraced  him.  “ How 


26 


Sentence  on  him . 


can  you  give  the  kiss  of  peace  to  an  excommuni- 
cated man  ? ” said  some  of  the  other  members  of 
the  synod.  “ You  would  do  as  I have  done/’ 
he  answered,  “ and  you  never  would  have  excom- 
municated him,  had  you  seen  what  I see — a pillar 
of  fire  which  goes  before  him,  and  the  angels  that 
accompany  him.  I dare  not  disdain  a man  predes- 
tined by  God  to  be  the  guide  of  an  entire  people  t6 
eternal  life.”  Thanks  to  the  intervention  of  Bren- 
dan, or  to  some  other  motive  not  mentioned,  the  sen- 
tence of  excommunication  was  withdrawn;  but  Co- 
lumba  was  charged  to  win  to  Christ  by  his  preaching 
as  many  pagan  souls  as  the  number  of  Christians 
who  had  fallen  in  the  battle  of  Cool-Drewny. 

It  was  then  that  his  soul  seems  first  to  have 
been  troubled,  and  that  remorse  planted  in  it  the 
germs  at  once  of  a startling  conversion  and  of  his 
future  apostolic  mission.  Sheltered  as  he  was  from 
all  vengeance  or  secular  penalties,  he  must  have 
felt  himself  struck  so  much  the  more  by  the  eccles- 
iastical judgment  pronounced  against  him.  Various 
legends  reveal  him  to  us  at  this  crisis  of  his  life, 
wandering  long  from  solitude  to  solitude,  and  from 
monastery  to  monastery,  seeking  out  holy  monks, 
masters  of  penitence  and  Christian  virtue,  and  ask- 
ing them  anxiously  what  he  should  do  to  obtain 
the  pardon  of  God  for  the  murder  of  so  many  vic- 
tims. One  of  these,  Froech,  who  had  long  been 
his  friend,  reproached  him  with  affectionate  severity 
for  having  been  the  instigator  of  that  murderous 


The  Monk  Abban. 


2 7 


fight.  “ It  was  not  I who  caused  it,”  said  Columba 
with  animation;  “it  was  the  unjust  judgment  of 
King  Diarmid — it  was  his  violation  of  ecclesiastical 
immunity  which  did  it  all.”  “ A monk,”  answered 
the  solitary,  “ would  have  done  better  to  bear  the 
injury  with  patience  than  to  avenge  it  with  arms  in 
his  hands.”  “ Be  it  so,”  said  Columba ; “ but  it  is 
hard  for  a man  unjustly  provoked  to  restrain  his 

heart  and  to  sacrifice  justice.” 

He  was  more  humble  with  Abban,  another 
famous  monk  of  the  time,  founder  of  many  reli- 
gious houses,  one  of  which  was  called  the  Cell  of 
Tears,  because  the  special  grace  of  weeping  for  sin 
was  obtained  there.  This  gentle  and  courageous 
soldier  of  Christ  was  specially  distinguished  by  his 
zeal  against  the  fighting  men  and  disturbers  of  the 
public  peace.  He  had  been  seen  to  throw  himself 
between  two  chiefs  at  the  moment  when  their 
lances  were  crossed  at  each  other’s  breasts;  and 
on  another  occasion  had  gone  alone  and  unarmed 
to  meet  one  of  the  most  formidable  rievers  of  the 
island,  who  was  still  a pagan  and  a member  of  a 
sovereign  family,  had  made  his  arms  drop  from  his 
hands,  and  had  changed  first  into  a Christian  and 
then  into  a monk  the  royal  robber,  whose  great- 
grandson  has  recorded  this  incident.  When  Co- 
lumba went  to  Abban,  he  said,  “ I come  to  beseech 
thee  to  pray  for  the  souls  of  all  those  who  have 
perished  in  the  late  war,  which  I raised  for  the 
honour  of  the  Church.  I know  they  will  obtain 


28 


Exile  of  St  Columba . 

grace  by  thy  intercession,  and  I conjure  thee  to 
ask  what  is  the  will  of  God  in  respect  to  them  from 
the  angel  who  talks  with  thee  every  day.”  The 
aged  solitary,  without  reproaching  Columba,  re- 
sisted his  entreaties  for  some  time,  by  reason  of  his 
great  modesty,  but  ended  by  consenting ; and  after 
having  prayed,  gave  him  the  assurance  that  these 
souls  enjoyed  eternal  repose. 

Columba,  thus  reassured  as  to  the  fate  of  the 
victims  of  his  rage,  had  still  to  be  enlightened  in 
respect  to  his  own  duty.  He  found  the  light  which 
he  sought  from  a holy  monk  called  Molaise,  famed 
for  his  studies  of  Holy  Scripture,  who  had  already 
been  his  confessor,  and  whose  ruined  monastery  is 
still  visible  in  Innishmurry,  on  the  coast  of  Sligo, 
one  of  the  isles  of  the  Atlantic.  This  severe  hermit 
confirmed  the  decision  of  the  synod;  but  to  the 
obligation  of  converting  to  the  Christian  faith  an 
equal  number  of  pagans  as  there  were  of  Christians 
killed  in  the  civil  war  he  added  a new  condition, 
which  bore  cruelly  upon  a soul  so  passionately 
attached  to  country  and  kindred.  The  confessor 
condemned  his  penitent  to  perpetual  exile  from 
Ireland.  Columba  bowed  to  this  sentence  with 
sad  resignation — “ What  you  have  commanded,”  he 
said,  “ shall  be  done.” 

He  announced  his  future  fate  in  the  first  place 
to  his  relations,  the  warlike  Nialls  of  Tyrconnell. 
“ An  angel  has  taught  me  that  I must  leave  Ireland 
and  remain  in  exile  as  long  as  I live,  because  of  all 


29 


His  Companions  in  Exile . 

those  whom  you  slew  in  the  last  battle,  which  you 
fought  on  my  account,  and  also  in  others  which 
you  know  of.”  It  is  not  recorded  that  any  among 
his  kindred  attempted  to  hold  him  back;  but  when 
he  acquainted  his  disciples  with  his  intended  emi- 
gration, twelve  among  them  decided  to  follow  him. 
The  most  ardent  of  all  was  a young  monk  called 
Mochonna,  son  of  the  provincial  king  of  Ulster. 
In  vain  Columba  represented  to  him  that  he  ought 
not  to  abandon  his  parents  and  native  soil.  “It 
is  thou,”  answered  the  young  man,  “ who  art  my 
father,  the  Church  is  my  mother,  and  my  country 
is  where  I can  gather  the  largest  harvest  for  Christ.” 
Then,  in  order  to  render  all  resistance  impossible, 
he  made  a solemn  vow  aloud  to  leave  his  country 
and  follow  Columba — “ I swear  to  follow  thee 
wherever  thou  goest,  until  thou  hast  led  me  to 
Christ,  to  whom  thou  hast  consecrated  me.”  It 
was  thus,  says  his  historian,  that  he  forced  himself 
rather  than  offered  himself  as  a companion  to  the 
great  exile  in  the  course  of  his  apostolical  career 
among  the  Piets — and  he  had  no  more  active  or 
devoted  auxiliary. 

Columba  accepted,  though  not  without  sadness, 
as  has  been  seen,  the  sentence  of  his  friend.  He 
dedicated  the  rest  of  his  life  to  the  expiation  of  his 
faults  by  a voluntary  exile,  and  by  preaching  the 
faith  to  the  heathen.  Up  to  this  time  we  have  had 
difficulty  in  disentangling  the  principal  events  of 
the  first  forty  years  of  his  life  from  a maze  of  con- 


30  The  Biography  of  Adamnan. 


fused  and  contradictory  narratives.  We  have  fol- 
lowed what  has  seemed  to  us  the  most  probable 
account,  and  one  most  calculated  to  throw  light 
upon  the  character  of  the  saint,  his  people,  and  his 
country.  Henceforward  we  shall  find  a surer  guide 
in  Adamnan,  who  only  touches  very  slightly  upon 
the  first  half  of  his  hero’s  life,  and  who,  with 4 an 
apparent  contempt  for  the  unanimous  testimony  of 
Irish  witnesses,  while  agreeing  that  the  departure  of 
the  saint  took  place  after  the  battle  in  which  the 
King  of  Ireland  had  been  beaten  by  Columba’s 
kindred,  attributes  his  departure  solely  to  his  de- 
sire for  the  conversion  of  the  heathens  of  the  great 
neighbouring  isle. 


3i 


CHAPTER  II. 

©olumba  an  ^Emigrant  tn  ©alcbonta — ®f)t 
Issle  of  Iona. 

E who  has  not  seen  the  islands  and 
gulfs  of  the  western  coast  of  Scotland, 
and  who  has  not  been  tossed  upon 
the  sombre  sea  of  the  Hebrides,  can 
scarcely  form  any  image  of  it  to  himself.  Nothing 
can  be  less  seductive  at  the  first  glance  than  that 
austere  and  solemn  nature,  which  is  picturesque 
without  charm,  and  grand  without  grace.  The  tra- 
veller passes  sadly  through  an  archipelago  of  naked 
and  desert  islands,  sowed,  like  so  many  extinct  vol- 
canoes, upon  the  dull  and  sullen  waters,  which  are 
sometimes  broken  by  rapid  currents  and  dangerous 
whirlpools.  Except  on  rare  days,  when  the  sun— 
that  pale  sun  of  the  North— gives  life  to  these 
shores,  the  eye  wanders  over  a vast  surface  of 
gloomy  sea,  broken  at  intervals  by  the  whitening 
crest  of  waves,  or  by  the  foamy  line  of  the  tide,  which 


32  Aspect  of  the  Hebrides. 

dashes  here  against  long  reefs  of  rock,  there  against 
immense  cliffs,  with  a forlorn  roar  which  fills  the  air. 
Through  the  continual  fogs  and  rains  of  that  rude 
climate  may  be  seen  by  times  the  summits  of  chains 
of  mountains,  whose  abrupt  and  naked  sides  slope 
to  the  sea,  and  whose  base  is  bathed  by  those  cold 
waves  which  are  kept  in  constant  agitation  by  the 
shock  of  contrary  currents,  and  the  tempests  of 
wind  which  burst  from  the  lakes  and  narrow  rav- 
ines farther  inland.  The  melancholy  of  the  land- 
scape is  relieved  only  by  that  peculiar  configuration 
of  the  coast,  which  has  been  remarked  by  the  ancient 
authors,  and  especially  by  Tacitus — a configuration 
which  exists  besides  only  in  Greece  and  Scandinavia. 
As  in  the  fiords  of  Norway,  the  sea  cuts  and  hol- 
lows out  the  shores  of  the  islands  into  a host  of 
bays  and  gulfs,  of  strange  depth,  and  as  narrow  as 
profound.  These  gulfs  take  the  most  varied  forms, 
penetrating  by  a thousand  tortuous  folds  into  the 
middle  of  the  land,  as  if  to  identify  themselves  with 
the  long  and  winding  lakes  of  the  Highland  interior. 
Numberless  peninsulas,  terminating  in  pointed  head- 
lands, or  summits  covered  with  clouds ; isthmuses 
so  narrow  as  to  leave  the  sea  visible  at  both  sides ; 
straits  so  closely  shut  between  two  walls  of  rock 
that  the  eye  hesitates  to  plunge  into  that  gloom ; 
enormous  cliffs  of  basalt  or  of  granite,  their  sides 
perforated  with  rents ; caverns,  as  at  Staffa,  lofty  as 
churches,  flanked  through  all  their  length  by  pris- 
matic columns,  through  which  the  waves  of  the 


33 


Aspect  of  the  Hebrides . 

ocean  dash  with  groans ) and  here  and  there,  in 
contrast  with  that  wild  majesty,  perhaps  in  an  island, 
perhaps  upon  the  shore  of  the  mainland,  a sandy 
beach,  a little  plain  covered  with  scanty  prickling 
grass  ; a natural  port,  capable  of  sheltering  a few 
frail  boats  ; everywhere,  in  short,  a strangely  varied 
combination  of  land  and  sea,  but  where  the  sea 
carries  the  day,  penetrates  and  dominates  every- 
thing, as  if  to  affirm  her  empire,  and,  as  Tacitus 
has  said,  “ inseri  velut  in  suo .” 

Such  is  the  present  aspect— such  must  have  been, 
with  the  addition  of  the  forests  which  have  disap- 
peared, the  aspect  of  those  shores  when  Columba 
sought  them  to  continue  and  end  his  life  there.  It 
was  from  this  point  that  he  was  to  assail  the  Land 
of  Woods,  that  unconquerable  Caledonia,  where  the 
Romans  had  been  obliged  to  relinquish  the  idea  of 
establishing  themselves,  where  Christianity  hitherto 
had  appeared  only  to  vanish,  and  which  for  long 
seemed  to  Europe  almost  outside  the  boundaries  of 
the  world.  To  Columba  was  to  fall  the  honour  of 
introducing  civilisation  into  the  stony,  sterile,  and 
icy  Escosse  la  Sauvage , which  the  imagination  of 
our  fathers  made  the  dwelling-place  of  hunger,  and 
of  the  prince  of  demons.  Sailing  by  these  distant 
shores,  who  could  refrain  from  evoking  the  holy 
memory  and  forgotten  glory  of  the  great  mission- 
ary ? It  is  from  him  that  Scotland  has  derived  that 
religious  spirit  which,  led  astray  as  it  has  been  since 
the  Reformation,  and  in  spite  of  its  own  rigid  nar- 

c 


34 


St  Columba  at  Iona . 


rowness,  remains  still  so  powerful,  so  popular,  so 
fruitful,  and  so  free.  Half  veiled  by  the  misty  dis- 
tance, Columba  stands  first  among  those  original 
and  touching  historical  figures  to  whom  Scotland 
owes  the  great  place  she  has  occupied  in  the  mem- 
ory and  imagination  of  modern  nations,  from  the 
noble  chivalry  of  the  feudal  and  Catholic  kingdom 
of  the  Bruces  and  Douglases,  down  to  the  un- 
paralleled misfortunes  of  Mary  Stuart  and  Charles 
Edward,  and  all  the  poetic  and  romantic  recollec- 
tions which  the  pure  and  upright  genius  of  Walter 
Scott  has  endowed  with  European  fame. 

A voluntary  exile,  at  the  age  of  forty-two,  from 
his  native  island,  Columba  embarked  with  his 
twelve  companions  in  one  of  those  great  barks  of 
osier  covered  with  hide  which  the  Celtic  nations 
employed  for  their  navigation.  He  landed  upon  a 
desert  island  situated  on  the  north  of  the  opening 
of  that  series  of  gulfs  and  lakes  which,  extending 
from  the  south-west  to  the  north-east,  cuts  the  Cale- 
donian peninsula  in  two,  and  which  at  that  period 
separated  the  still  heathen  Piets  from  the  district 
occupied  by  the  Irish  Scots,  who  were  partially 
Christianised.  This  isle,  which  he  has  made  im- 
mortal, took  from  him  the  name  of  I-Colm-kill  (the 
island  of  Columb-kill),  but  is  better  known  under 
that  of  Iona.  A legend,  suggested  by  one  of  our 
saint’s  most  marked  characteristics,  asserts  that  he 
first  landed  upon  another  islet  called  Oronsay,  but 
that,  having  climbed  a hill  near  the  shore  immedi- 


Appearance  of  the  Island . 35 

ately  on  landing,  he  found  that  he  could  still  see 
Ireland,  his  beloved  country.  To  see  far  off  that 
dear  soil  which  he  had  left  for  ever,  was  too  hard  a 
trial.  He  came  down  from  the  hill,  and  immedi- 
ately took  to  his  boat  to  seek,  farther  off,  a shore 
from  which  he  could  not  see  his  native  land.  When 
he  had  reached  Iona,  he  climbed  the  highest  point 
in  the  island,  and,  gazing  into  the  distance,  found 
no  longer  any  trace  of  Ireland  upon  the  horizon. 
He  decided,  accordingly,  to  remain  upon  this  un- 
known rock.  One  of  those  heaps  of  stones,  which 
are  called  cairns  in  the  Celtic  dialect,  still  marks 
the  spot  where  Columba  made  this  desiredly  un- 
fruitful examination,  and  has  long  borne  the  name 
of  the  Cairn  of  Farewell.* 

Nothing  could  be  more  sullen  and  sad  than  the 
aspect  of  this  celebrated  isle,  where  not  a single 
tree  has  been  able  to  resist  either  the  blighting  wind 
or  the  destroying  hand  of  man.  Only  three  miles 
in  length  by  two  in  breadth,  flat  and  low,  bordered 
by  grey  rocks  which  scarcely  rise  above  the  level 
of  the  sea,  and  overshadowed  by  the  high  and 
sombre  peaks  of  the  great  island  of  Mull,  it  has  not 
even  the  wild  beauty  which  is  conferred  upon  the 
neighbouring  isles  and  shores  by  their  basalt  cliffs, 
which  are  often  of  prodigious  height — or  which 
belongs  to  the  hills,  often  green  and  rounded  at 
the  summit,  whose  perpendicular  sides  are  beaten 
incessantly  by  those  Atlantic  waves,  which  bury 
* Cam  cut  ri  Erin — literally,  the  hack  turned  on  Ireland . 


36  Appearance  of  the  Island . 

themselves  in  resounding  caverns  hollowed  by  the 
everlasting  labours  of  that  tumultuous  sea.  Upon 
the  narrow  surface  of  the  island  white  stretches  of 
sand  alternate  with  scanty  pastures,  a few  poor 
crops,  and  the  turf-moors  where  the  inhabitants  find 
their  fuel.  Poor  as  the  culture  is,  it  seems  every- 
where resisted  and  disputed  by  the  gneiss  rocks, 
which  continually  crop  out,  and  in  some  places 
form  an  almost  inextricable  labyrinth.  The  only 
attraction  possessed  by  this  sombre  dwelling-place 
is  the  view  of  the  sea,  and  of  the  mountains  of  Mull 
and  the  other  islands,  to  the  number  of  twenty  or 
thirty,  which  may  be  distinguished  from  the  top  of 
the  northern  hill  of  Iona.  Among  these  is  Stafifa, 
celebrated  for  the  grotto  of  Fingal,  which  has  been 
known  only  for  about  a century,  and  which,  in  the 
time  of  Columba,  moaned  and  murmured  in  its 
solitary  and  unknown  majesty,  in  the  midst  of  that 
Hebridean  archipelago  which  is  at  present  haunted 
by  so  many  curious  admirers  of  the  Highland  shores 
and  ruined  feudal  castles,  which  the  great  bard  of 
our  century  has  enshrined  in  the  glory  of  his  verse. 

The  bay  where  Columba  landed  is  still  called  the 
bay  of  the  osier  bark , j Port1  a Churraich  ; and  a long 
mound  is  pointed  out  to  strangers  as  representing 
the  exact  size  of  his  boat,  which  was  sixty  feet  long. 
The  emigrant  did  not  remain  in  this  bay,  which  is 
situated  in  the  middle  of  the  isle ; he  went  higher 
up,  and,  to  find  a little  shelter  from  the  great  sea 
winds,  chose  for  his  habitation  the  eastern  shore, 


First  Erections  on  it. 


37 


opposite  the  large  island  of  Mull,  which  is  separated 
from  Iona  only  by  a narrow  channel  of  a mile  in 
breadth,  and  whose  highest  mountains,  situated 
more  to  the  east,  approach  and  almost  identify 
themselves  with  the  mountain-tops  of  Morven, 
which  are  continually  veiled  with  clouds.  It  was 
there  that  the  emigrants  built  their  huts  of  branches, 
for  the  island  was  not  then,  as  now,  destitute  of 
wood.  When  Columba  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
construct  for  himself  and  his  people  a settled  estab- 
lishment, the  buildings  of  the  new-born  monastery 
were  of  the  greatest  simplicity.  As  in  all  Celtic 
constructions,  walls  of  withes  or  branches,  supported 
upon  long  wooden  props,  formed  the  principal 
element  in  their  architecture.  Climbing  plants, 
especially  ivy,  interlacing  itself  in  the  interstices  of 
the  branches,  at  once  ornamented  and  consolidated 
the  modest  shelter  of  the  missionaries.  The  Irish 
built  scarcely  any  churches  of  stone,  and  retained, 
up  to  the  twelfth  century,  as  St  Bernard  testifies,  the 
habit  of  building  their  churches  of  wood.  But  it 
was  not  for  some  years  after  their  first  establishment 
that  the  monks  of  Iona  permitted  themselves  the 
luxury  of  a wooden  church;  and  when  they  did  so, 
great  oaks,  such  as  the  sterile  and  wind-beaten  soil 
of  their  islet  could  not  produce,  had  to  be  brought 
for  its  construction  from  the  neighbouring  shore. 

Thus  the  monastic  capital  of  Scotland,  and  the 
centre  of  Christian  civilisation  in  the  north  of  Great 
Britain,  came  into  being  thirteen  centuries  ago. 


Dr  Johnson  on  Iona. 


38 

Some  ruins  of  a much  later  date  than  the  days  of 
Columba,  though  still  very  ancient,  mingled  among 
a few  cottages  scattered  on  the  shore,  still  point 
out  the  site. 

“ We  were  now  treading/7  said,  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  the  celebrated  Johnson,  who  was  the  first 
to  recall  the  attention  of  the  British  public  to  this 
profaned  sanctuary — “ we  were  now  treading  that 
illustrious  island  which  was  once  the  luminary  of 
the  Caledonian  regions,  whence  savage  clans  and 
roving  barbarians  derived  the  benefits  of  know- 
ledge, and  the  blessings  of  religion.  To  abstract 
the  mind  from  all  local  emotion  would  be  impos- 
sible, if  it  were  endeavoured,  and  would  be  foolish, 
if  it  were  possible.  Whatever  withdraws  us  from 
the  power  of  our  senses,  whatever  makes  the  past, 
the  distant,  or  the  future  predominate  over  the 
present,  advances  us  in  the  dignity  of  thinking 
beings.  Far  from  me,  and  from  my  friends,  be 
such  frigid  philosophy  as  may  conduct  us  indiffer- 
ent and  unmoved  over  any  ground  which  has  been 
dignified  by  wisdom,  bravery,  or  virtue.  That  man 
is  little  to  be  envied  whose  patriotism  would  not 
gain  force  upon  the  plain  of  Marathon,  or  whose 
piety  would  not  grow  warmer  among  the  ruins  of 
Iona ! ” 

Columba,  who  had  been  initiated  into  classic 
recollections,  like  all  the  monks  of  his  time,  had  no 
doubt  heard  of  Marathon;  but  certainly  it  could 
never  have  occurred  to  him  that  a day  would  come 


The  Saint's  Regrets  for  Ireland.  39 

in  which  a descendant  of  the  race  he  came  to  save 
should  place  his  humble  shelter  in  the  same  rank 
with  the  most  glorious  battle-field  of  Hellenic 
history. 

Far  from  having  any  prevision  of  the  glory  of 
Iona,  his  soul  was  still  swayed  by  a sentiment 
which  never  abandoned  him — regret  for  his  lost 
country.  All  his  life  he  retained  for  Ireland  the 
passionate  tenderness  of  an  exile,  a love  which  dis- 
played itself  in  the  songs  which  have  been  preserved 
to  us,  and  which  date  perhaps  from  the  first  mo- 
ments of  his  exile.  It  is  possible  that  their  authen- 
ticity is  not  altogether  beyond  dispute;  and  that, 
like  the  poetic  lamentations  given  forth  by  Fortuna- 
tus  in  the  name  of  St  Radegund,  they  were  com- 
posed by  his  disciples  and  contemporaries.  But 
they  have  been  too  long  repeated  as  his,  and  depict 
too  well  what  must  have  passed  in  his  heart,  to  per- 
mit us  to  neglect  them.  “ Death  in  faultless  Ire- 
land is  better  than  life  without  end  in  Albyn.” 
After  this  cry  of  despair  follow  strains  more  plain- 
tive and  submissive.  In  one  of  his  elegies  he 
laments  that  he  can  no  longer  sail  on  the  lakes  and 
bays  of  his  native  island,  nor  hear  the  song  of  the 
swans,  with  his  friend  Comgall.  He  laments  above 
all  to  have  been  driven  from  Erin  by  his  own  fault, 
and  because  of  the  blood  shed  in  his  battles.  He 
envies  his  friend  Cormac,  who  can  go  back  to  his 
dear  monastery  at  Durrow,  and  hear  the  wind  sigh 
among  the  oaks,  and  the  song  of  the  blackbird  and 


40  Lament  of  the  Exile. 

cuckoo.  As  for  Columba,  all  is  dear  to  him  in 
Ireland  except  the  princes  who  reign  there.  This  last 
particular  shows  the  persistence  of  his  political  ran- 
cour. No  trace  of  this  feeling,  however,  remains  in 
a still  more  characteristic  poem,  which  must  have 
been  confided  to  some  traveller  as  a message  from 
the  exile  of  Iona  to  his  country.  In  this  he  cele- 
brates, as  always,  the  delight  of  voyaging  round 
the  coast  of  Ireland,  and  the  beauty  of  its  cliffs 
and  beach.  But,  above  all,  he  mourns  over  his 
exile : — 

“ What  joy  to  fly  upon  the  white-crested  sea,  and 
to  watch  the  waves  break  upon  the  Irish  shore ! 
what  joy  to  row  the  little  bark,  and  land  among  the 
whitening  foam  upon  the  Irish  shore  ! Ah  ! how 
my  boat  would  fly  if  its  prow  were  turned  to  my 
Irish  oak-grove  ! But  the  noble  sea  now  carries  me 
only  to  Albyn,*  the  land  of  ravens.  My  foot  is  in 
my  little  boat,  but  my  sad  heart  ever  bleeds.  There 
is  a grey  eye  which  ever  turns  to  Erin ; but  never 
in  this  life  shall  it  see  Erin,  nor  her  sons,  nor  her 
daughters.  From  the  high  prow  I look  over  the 
sea,  and  great  tears  are  in  my  grey  eye  when  I 
turn  to  Erin— to  Erin,  where  the  songs  of  the  birds 
are  so  sweet,  and  where  the  clerks  sing  like  the 
birds ; where  the  young  are  so  gentle,  and  the  old 
so  wise ; where  the  great  men  are  so  noble  to  look 

* Albania  was  the  original  name  of  the  country  which  the 
Romans  called  Caledonia,  and  which  is  now  known  as  Scot- 
land. 


His  Passionate  Love  of  Ireland.  41 

at,  and  the  women  so  fair  to  wed.  Young  traveller, 
carry  my  sorrows  with  thee,  carry  them  to  Comgall 
of  eternal  life.  Noble  youth,  take  my  prayer  with 
thee,  and  my  blessing ; one  part  for  Ireland — seven 
times  may  she  be  blessed  ! and  the  other  for  Albyn. 
Carry  my  blessing  across  the  sea — carry  it  to  the 
west  My  heart  is  broken  in  my  breast : if  death 
comes  to  me  suddenly,  it  will  be  because  of  the 
great  love  I bear  to  the  Gael.” 

But  it  was  not  only  in  these  elegies,  repeated 
and  perhaps  retouched  by  Irish  bards  and  monks, 
but  at  each  instant  of  his  life,  in  season  and  out  of 
season,  that  this  love  and  passionate  longing  for  his 
native  country  burst  forth  in  words  and  in  musings ; 
the  narratives  of  his  most  trustworthy  biographers 
are  full  of  it.  The  most  severe  penance  which  he 
could  imagine  for  the  guiltiest  sinners  who  came  to 
confess  to  him,  was  to  impose  upon  them  the  same 
fate  which  he  had  voluntarily  inflicted  upon  him- 
self — never  to  set  foot  again  upon  Irish  soil.  But 
when,  instead  of  forbidding  to  sinners  all  access  to 
that  beloved  isle,  he  had  to  smother  his  envy  of 
those  who  had  the  right  and  happiness  to  go  there 
at  their  pleasure,  he  dared  scarcely  trust  himself  to 
name  its  name ; and  when  speaking  to  his  guests, 
or  to  the  monks  who  were  to  return  to  Ireland,  he 
could  only  say  to  them,  “You  will  return  to  the 
country  that  you  love.” 

This  melancholy  patriotism  never  faded  out  of 
his  heart,,  and  was  evidenced  much  later  in  his  life 


42  The  Wandering  Stork. 

by  an  incident  which  shows  an  obstinate  regret  for 
his  lost  Ireland,  along  with  a tender  and  careful 
solicitude  for  all  the  creatures  of  God.  One  morn- 
ing he  called  one  of  the  monks  and  said  to  him, 
“ Go  and  seat  thyself  by  the  sea,  upon  the  western 
bank  of  the  island ; there  thou  wilt  see  arrive  from 
the  north  of  Ireland  and  fall  at  thy  feet  a poor 
travelling  stork,  long  beaten  by  the  winds  and  ex- 
hausted by  fatigue.  Take  her  up  with  pity,  feed 
her  and  watch  her  for  three  days ; after  three  days’ 
rest,  when  she  is  refreshed  and  strengthened,  she 
will  no  longer  wish  to  prolong  her  exile  among  us 
— she  will  fly  to  sweet  Ireland,  her  dear  country 
where  she  was  born.  I bid  thee  care  for  her  thus, 
because  she  comes  from  the  land  where  I,  too,  was 
bom.”  Everything  happened  as  he  had  said  and 
ordered.  The  evening  of  the  day  on  which  the 
monk  had  received  the  poor  traveller,  as  he  returned 
to  the  monastery,  Columba,  asking  him  no  ques- 
tions, said  to  him,  “ God  bless  thee,  my  dear  child, 
thou  hast  cared  for  the  exile ; in  three  days  thou 
shalt  see  her  return  to  her  country.”  And,  in  fact, 
at  the  time  mentioned  the  stork  rose  from  the 
ground  in  her  host’s  presence,  and,  after  having 
sought  her  way  for  a moment  in  the  air,  directed 
her  flight  across  the  sea,  straight  upon  Ireland. 
The  sailors  of  the  Hebrides  all  know  and  tell  this 
tale  ; and  I love  to  think  that  among  all  my  readers 
there  is  not  one  who  would  not  fain  have  repeated 
or  deserved  Columba’s  blessing. 


43 


CHAPTER  III. 

®J)e  &posstolatc  of  ©olumfia  among  tj)e  Scots 
anti  ^tcts. 

OWEVER  bitter  the  sadness  might  be 
with  which  exile  filled  the  heart  of 
Columba,  it  did  not  for  a moment 
turn  him  from  his  work  of  expiation. 
As  soon  as  he  had  installed  himself  with  his  com- 
panions in  that  desert  isle,  from  whence  the  Chris- 
tian faith  and  monastic  life  were  about  to  radiate 
over  the  north  of  Great  Britain,  a gradual  and 
almost  complete  transformation  became  apparent 
in  him.  Without  giving  up  the  lovable  peculiarities 
of  his  character  and  race,  he  gradually  became  a 
model  for  penitents,  and  at  the  same  time  for  con- 
fessors and  preachers.  Without  ceasing  to  main- 
tain an  authority  which  was  to  increase  with  years, 
and  which  does  not  seem  ever  to  have  been  dis- 
puted, over  the  monasteries  which  he  had  founded 
in  Ireland,  he  applied  himself  at  once  to  establish, 


44 


Change  in  his  Character . 

on  the  double  basis  of  manual  and  intellectual 
labour,  the  new  insular  community  which  was  to 
be  the  centre  of  his  future  activity.  Then  he  pro- 
ceeded to  unite  himself  in  friendly  relations  with 
the  inhabitants  of  the  neighbouring  districts,  whom 
it  was  needful  to  evangelise  or  confirm  in  the  faith, 
before  thinking  of  carrying  the  light  of  the  Gospel 
further  off  to  the  north.  He  prepared  himself  for 
this  grand  mission  by  miracles  of  fervour  and 
austerity,  as  well  as  humble  charity,  to  the  great 
profit  in  the  first  place  of  his  own  monks,  and 
afterwards  of  the  many  visitors  who  came,  whether 
from  Ireland  or  from  the  Caledonian  shores,  to 
seek  at  his  side  the  healing  or  the  consolation  of 
penitence. 

This  man,  whom  we  have  seen  so  passionate,  so 
irritable,  so  warlike  and  vindictive,  became  little  by 
little  the  most  gentle,  the  humblest,  the  most  ten- 
der of  friends  and  fathers.  It  was  he,  the  great 
head  of  the  Caledonian  Church,  who,  kneeling 
before  the  strangers  who  came  to  Iona,  or  before 
the  monks  returning  from  their  work,  took  off  their 
shoes,  washed  their  feet,  and  after  having  washed 
them  respectfully  kissed  them.  But  charity  was 
still  stronger  than  humility  in  that  transfigured  soul. 
No  necessity,  spiritual  or  temporal,  found  him  in- 
different. He  devoted  himself  to  the  solace  of  all 
infirmities,  all  misery,  and  pain,  weeping  often  over 
those  who  did  not  weep  for  themselves.  These 
tears  became  the  most  eloquent  part  of  his  preach- 


His  own  Residence  at  Iona . 45 

in g,  the  means  which  he  employed  most  willingly 
to  subdue  inveterate  sinners,  to  arrest  the  criminal 
on  the  brink  of  the  abyss,  to  appease  and  soften 
and  change  those  wild  and  savage  but  simple  and 
straightforward  souls,  whom  God  had  given  him  to 
subdue. 

In  the  midst  of  the  new  community  Columba 
inhabited,  instead  of  a cell,  a sort  of  hut  built  of 
planks,  and  placed  upon  the  most  elevated  spot 
within  the  monastic  enclosure.  Up  to  the  age  of 
seventy-six  he  slept  there  upon  the  hard  floor,  with 
no  pillow  but  a stone.  This  hut  was  at  once  his 
study  and  his  oratory.  It  was  there  that  he  gave 
himself  up  to  those  prolonged  prayers  which  ex- 
cited the  admiration  and  almost  the  alarm  of  his 
disciples.  It  was  there  that  he  returned  after 
sharing  the  outdoor  labour  of  his  monks,  like  the 
least  among  them,  to  consecrate  the  rest  of  his 
time  to  the  study  of  Holy  Scripture  and  the  tran- 
scription of  the  sacred  text.  The  work  of  transcrip- 
tion remained  until  his  last  day  the  occupation  of 
his  old  age  as  it  had  been  the  passion  of  his  youth; 
it  had  such  an  attraction  for  him,  and  seemed  to 
him  so  essential  to  a knowledge  of  the  truth,  that, 
as  we  have  already  said,  three  hundred  copies  of 
the  Holy  Gospels,  copied  by  his  own  hand,  have 
been  attributed  to  him.  It  was  in  the  same  hut 
that  he  received  with  unwearied  patience  the 
numerous  and  sometimes  importunate  visitors  who 
soon  flowed  to  him,  and  of  whom  sometimes  he 


46  His  strict  Investigation 

complained  gently — as  of  that  indiscreet  stranger, 
who,  desirous  of  embracing  him,  awkwardly  over- 
turned his  ink  upon  the  border  of  his  robe.  These 
importunate  guests  did  not  come  out  of  simple 
curiosity;  they  were  most  commonly  penitent  or 
fervid  Christians,  who,  informed  by  the  fishermen 
and  inhabitants  of  the  neighbouring  isles  of  the 
establishment  of  the  Irish  monk,  who  was  already 
famous  in  his  own  country,  and  attracted  by  the 
growing  renown  of  his  virtues,  came  from  Ireland, 
from  the  north  and  south  of  Britain,  and  even  from 
the  midst  of  the  still  heathen  Saxons,  to  save  their 
souls  and  gain  heaven  under  the  direction  of  a man 
of  God. 

Far  from  making  efforts  to  attract  or  lightly  ad- 
mitting these  neophytes,  nothing  in  his  life  is  more 
clearly  established  than  the  scrupulous  severity  with 
which  he  examined  into  all  vocations,  and  into  the 
admission  of  penitents.  He  feared  nothing  so  much 
as  that  the  monastic  frock  might  serve  as  a shelter 
for  criminals  who  sought  in  the  cloister  not  only  a 
place  of  penitence  and  expiation,  but  a shelter  from 
human  justice.  On  occasion  he  even  blamed  the 
too  great  facility  of  his  friends  and  disciples.  One 
of  the  latter,  Finchan,  had  founded  upon  Eigg,  an- 
other Hebridean  island,  to  the  north  of  Iona,  near 
Skye,  a community  resembling  that  of  Iona,  and 
possibly  dependent  upon  it : he  had  there  admitted 
to  clerical  orders,  and  even  to  the  priesthood,  a 
prince  of  the  clan  of  Piets  established  in  Ireland, 


47 


into  Religious  Vocations . 

Aedh  or  Aldus,  called  the  Black,  a violent  and 
bloodthirsty  man,  who  had  assassinated  Diarmid, 
the  king  of  Ireland.  It  was  this  king,  as  will  be 
remembered,  who  pronounced  the  unjust  sentence 
which  drove  Columba  frantic,  and  was  the  occasion 
of  all  his  faults  and  misfortunes.  The  abbot  of  Iona 
was  not  the  less  on  this  account  indignant  at  the 
weakness  of  his  friend.  “ The  hand  which  Finchan 
has  laid,  in  the  face  of  all  justice  and  ecclesiastical 
law,  upon  the  head  of  this  son  of  perdition,”  said 
Columba,  “ shall  rot  and  fall  off,  and  be  buried  be- 
fore the  body  to  which  it  is  attached.  As  for  the 
false  priest,  the  assassin,  he  shall  himself  be  assas- 
sinated.” This  double  prophecy  was  accomplished. 

Let  us  lend  an  ear  to  the  following  dialogue 
which  Columba  held  with  one  of  those  who  sought 
shelter  under  his  discipline.  It  will  explain  the 
moral  and  spiritual  condition  of  that  age  better  than 
many  commentaries,  and  will,  besides,  show  the 
wonderful  influence  which  Columba,  penitent  and 
exiled  in  the  depths  of  his  distant  island,  exercised 
over  all  Ireland.  It  was  one  day  announced  to 
him  that  a stranger  had  just  landed  from  Ireland, 
and  Columba  went  to  meet  him  in  the  house  re- 
served for  guests,  to  talk  to  him  in  private,  and 
question  him  as  to  his  dwelling-place,  his  family,  and 
the  cause  of  his  journey.  The  stranger  told  him 
that  he  had  undertaken  this  painful  voyage  in  order, 
under  the  monastic  habit  and  in  exile,  to  expiate 
his  sins.  Columba,  desirous  of  trying  the  reality  of 


48  Treatment  of  a Criminal \ 

his  penitence,  drew  a most  repulsive  picture  of  the 
hardship  and  difficult  obligations  of  the  new  life. 
“ I am  ready,”  said  the  stranger,  “to  submit  to  the 
most  cruel  and  humiliating  conditions  that  thou 
canst  command  me.”  And  after  having  made 
confession,  he  swore,  still  upon  his  knees,  to  ac- 
complish all  the  requirements  of  penitence.  “ It 
is  well,”  said  the  abbot ; “now  rise  from  thy  knees, 
seat  thyself,  and  listen  : you  must  first  do  penance 
for  seven  years  in  the  neighbouring  island  of  Tiree, 
after  which  I will  see  you  again.”  “ But,”  said  the 
penitent,  still  agitated  by  remorse,  “how  can  I 
expiate  a perjury  of  which  I have  not  yet  spoken  ? 
Before  I left  my  own  country  I killed  a poor  man. 
I was  about  to  suffer  the  punishment  of  death  for 
that  crime,  and  I was  already  in  irons,  when  one  of 
my  relations,  who  is  very  rich,  delivered  me  by  paying 
the  composition  demanded.  I swore  that  I would 
serve  him  all  the  rest  of  my  life ; but  after  some 
days  of  service  I abandoned  him,  and  here  I am, 
notwithstanding  my  oath.”  Upon  this  the  saint 
added  that  he  would  only  be  admitted  to  the  paschal 
communion  after  seven  years  of  penitence.  When 
these  were  completed,  Columba,  after  having  given 
him  the  communion  with  his  own  hand,  sent  him 
back  to  Ireland  to  his  patron,  carrying  a sword 
with  an  ivory  handle  for  his  ransom.  The  patron, 
however,  moved  by  the  entreaties  of  his  wife,  gave 
the  penitent  his  pardon  without  ransom.  “ Why 
should  we  accept  the  price  sent  to  us  by  the  holy 


49 


The  Story  of  Libran . 

Columba?  We  are  not  worthy  of  it.  The  request 
of  such  an  intercessor  should  be  granted  freely. 
His  blessing  will  do  more  for  us  than  any  ransom.” 
And  immediately  he  detached  the  girdle  from  his 
waist,  which  was  the  ordinary  formula  in  Ireland 
for  the  manumission  of  captives  or  slaves.  Columba 
had  besides  commanded  his  penitent  to  remain 
with  his  old  father  and  mother  until  he  had  ren- 
dered to  them  the  last  services.  This  accomplished, 
his  brothers  let  him  go,  saying,  “ Far  be  it  from  us 
to  detain  a man  who  has  laboured  for  seven  years 
for  the  salvation  of  his  soul  with  the  holy  Columba.” 
He  then  returned  to  Iona,  bringing  with  him  the 
sword  which  was  to  have  been  his  ransom.  “ Hence- 
forward thou  shalt  be  called  Libran,  for  thou  art 
free,  and  emancipated  from  all  ties,”  said  Columba; 
and  he  immediately  admitted  him  to  take  the  mo- 
nastic vows.  But  when  he  was  commanded  to  return 
to  Tiree,  to  end  his  life  at  a distance  from  Columba, 
poor  Libran,  who  up  to  this  moment  had  been  so 
docile,  fell  on  his  knees  and  wept  bitterly.  Co- 
lumba, touched  by  his  despair,  comforted  him  as 
best  he  could,  without,  however,  altering  his  sen- 
tence. “Thou  shalt  live  far  from  me,  but  thou 
shalt  die  in  one  of  my  monasteries,  and  thou  shalt 
rise  again  with  my  monks,  and  have  part  with 
them  in  heaven,”  said  the  abbot.  Such  was  the 
"history  of  Libran,  called  Libran  of  the  Rushes,  be- 
cause he  had  passed  many  years  in  gathering  rushes 
— the  years  probably  of  his  penitence. 

D 


50  Anecdotes  of  the  Saint . 

This  doctor;  learned  in  penitence,  became  day 
by  day  more  gifted  in  the  great  art  of  ruling  souls ; 
and,  with  a hand  as  prudent  as  vigorous,  raised  up 
on  one  side  the  wounded  and  troubled  conscience, 
while,  on  the  other,  he  unveiled  the  false  monks 
and  false  penitents.  To  a certain  monk,  who,  in 
despair  at  having  yielded  during  a journey  to  the 
temptations  of  a woman,  rushed  from  confessor  to 
confessor  without  ever  finding  himself  sufficiently 
repentant  or  sufficiently  punished,  he  restored  peace 
and  confidence,  by  showing  him  that  his  despair 
was  nothing  but  an  infernal  hallucination,  and  by 
indicting  upon  him  a penance  hard  enough  to  con- 
vince him  of  the  remission  of  his  sin.  To  another 
sinner  from  Ireland,  who,  guilty  of  incest  and  frat- 
ricide, had  insisted,  whether  Columba  pleased  or 
not,  on  taking  refuge  in  Iona,  he  imposed  perpet- 
ual exile  from  his  native  country,  and  twelve  years 
of  penance  among  the  savages  of  Caledonia,  pre- 
dicting at  the  same  time  that  the  false  penitent 
would  perish  in  consequence  of  refusing  this  expi- 
ation. Arriving  one  day  in  a little  community 
formed  by  himself  in  one  of  the  neighbouring  islets 
— Himba,  the  modern  name  of  which  is  unknown 
—and  intended  to  receive  the  penitents  during 
their  time  of  probation,  he  gave  orders  that  certain 
delicacies  should  be  added  to  their  usual  repast, 
and  that  even  the  penitents  should  be  permitted  to 
enjoy  them.  One  of  the  latter,  however,  more 
scrupulous  than  needful,  refused  to  accept  the. 


5i 


Number  of  his  Neophytes . 

improved  fare,  even  from  the  hand  of  the  abbot. 
“Ah!”  said  Columba,  “thou  refusest  the  solace 
which  is  offered  to  thee  by  thy  superior  and  myself. 

A day  will  come  when  thou  shalt  again  be  a robber 
as  thou  hast  been,  and  shalt  steal,  and  eat  the  veni- 
son in  the  forests  wherever  thou  goest.”  And  this 
prophecy  too  was  fulfilled. 

Notwithstanding  these  precautions,  and  his  appa- 
rent severity,  the  number  of  neophytes  who  sought 
the  privilege  of  living  under  the  rule  of  Columba 
increased  more  and  more.  Every  day,  and  every 
minute  of  the  day,  the  abbot  and  his  companions, 
in  the  retirement  of  their  cells,  or  at  their  outdoor 
labours,  heard  great  cries  addressed  to  them  from 
the  other  side  of  the  narrow  strait  which  separates 
Iona  from  the  neighbouring  island  of  Mull.  These 
shouts  were  the  understood  signal  by  which  those 
who  sought  admission  to  Iona  gave  notice  of  their 
presence,  that  the  boat  of  the  monastery  might  be 
sent  to  carry  them  over.  Among  the  crowds  who 
crossed  in  that  boat  some  sought  only  material 
help,  alms,  or  medicines;  but  the  greater  part 
sought  permission  to  do  penance,  and  to  pass  a 
shorter  or  longer  time  in  the  new  monastery,  where 
Columba  put  their  vocation  to  so  many  trials.  Once 
only  was  he  known  to  have  at  the  very  moment  of 
their  arrival  imposed,  so  to  speak,  the  monastic 
vows  upon  two  pilgrims,  whose  virtues  and  ap- 
proaching death  had  been  by  a supernatural  instinct 
revealed  to  him. 


52  New  Monastic  Establishments . 


The  narrow  enclosure  of  Iona  was  soon  too  small 
for  the  increasing  crowd,  and  from  this  little  monas- 
tic colony  issued  in  succession  a swarm  of  similar 
colonies,  which  went  forth  to  plant  new  communi- 
ties, daughters  of  Iona,  in  the  neighbouring  isles, 
and  on  the  mainland  of  Caledonia,  all  of  which 
were  under  the  authority  of  Columba.  Ancient 
traditions  attribute  to  him  the  foundation  of  three 
hundred  monasteries  or  churches,  as  many  in  Cale- 
donia as  in  Hibernia,  a hundred  of  which  were  in 
the  islands  or  upon  the  sea-shore  of  the  two  coun- 
tries. Modem  learning  has  discovered  and  regis- 
tered the  existence  of  ninety  churches,  whose  origin 
goes  back  to  Columba,  and  to  all  or  almost  all  of 
which,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  monas- 
tic communities  must  have  been  attached.  Traces 
of  fifty-three  of  these  churches  remain  still  in  modern 
Scotland,  unequally  divided  among  the  districts  in- 
habited by  the  two  races  which  then  shared  Cale- 
donia between  them.  Thirty-two  are  in  the  Western 
Isles  and  the  country  occupied  by  the  Irish-Scots, 
and  the  twenty-one  others  mark  the  principal  sta- 
tions of  the  great  missionary  in  the  land  of  the  Piets. 
The  most  enlightened  judges  among  the  Scotch 
Protestants  agree  in  attributing  to  the  teachings  of 
Columba— to  his  foundations  and  his  disciples — all 
the  primitive  churches,  and  the  very  ancient  paro- 
chial division  of  Scotland. 

But  it  is  time  to  tell  what  the  population  was 
whose  confidence  Columba  had  thus  gained,  and 


The  Dalriadian  Scots.  53 

from  which  the  communities  of  his  monastic  family 
were  recruited.  The  portion  of  Great  Britian  which 
received  the  name  of  Caledonia  did  not  include 
the  whole  of  modern  Scotland ; it  embraced  only 
the  districts  to.  the  north  of  the  isthmus  which 
separates  the  Clyde  from  the  Forth,  or  Glasgow 
from  Edinburgh.  All  this  region  to  the  north  and 
to  the  east  was  in  the  hands  of  those  terrible  Piets 
whom  the  Romans  had  been  unable  to  conquer, 
and  who  were  the  terror  of  the  Britons.  But  to  the 
west  and  south-west,  on  the  side  where  Columba 
landed,  he  found  a colony  of  his  own  country  and 
race — that  is  to  say,  the  Scots  of  Ireland,  who  were 
destined  to  become  the  sole  masters  of  Caledonia, 
and  to  bestow  upon  it  the  name  of  Scotland.  More 
than  half  a century  before,  following  in  the  train  of 
many  similar  invasions  or  emigrations,  a colony  of 
Irish,  or,  according  to  the  name  then  in  use,  of 
Scots,  belonging  to  the  tribe  of  Dalriadians,  had 
crossed  the  sea  which  separates  the  north-east  coast 
of  Ireland  from  the  north-west  of  Great  Britain, 
and  had  established  itself— between  the  Piets  of 
the  north  and  the  Britons  of  the  south— in  the 
islands  and  upon  the  western  coast  of  Caledonia, 
north  of  the  mouth  of  the  Clyde,  and  in  the  dis- 
trict which  has  since  taken  the  name  of  Argyll. 
The  chiefs  or  kings  of  this  Dalriadian  colony,  who 
were  destined  to  become  the  parent  stock  of  those 
famous  and  unfortunate  Stuarts  who  once  reigned 
over  both  Scotland  and  England,  had  at  that  time 


54  Connection  of  the  Saint  with  them . 

strengthened  their  growing  power  by  the  aid  of  the 
Niall  princes  who  reigned  in  the  north  of  Ireland, 
and  to  whose  family  Columba  belonged.  Columba 
had  also  a very  close  tie  of  kindred  with  the  Dal- 
riadians  themselves,  his  paternal  grandmother  hav- 
ing been  the  daughter  of  Lorn,  the  first,  or  one  of 
the  first  kings  of  the  colony.  He  was  thus  a rela- 
tion of  King  Connal,  the  sixth  successor  of  Lorn, 
who,  at  the  moment  of  Columba’s  arrival,  had 
been  for  three  years  the  chief  of  the  Scotic  emi- 
grants in  Caledonia.  Iona,  where  the  abbot  estab- 
lished himself,  was  at  the  northern  extremity  of 
the  then  very  limited  domain  of  the  Dalriadians, 
and  might  be  regarded  as  a dependency  of  their 
new  state,  not  less  than  of  that  of  the  Piets,  who 
occupied  all  the  rest  of  Caledonia.  Columba  im- 
mediately entered  into  alliance  with  this  prince. 
He  visited  him  in  his  residence  on  the  mainland, 
and  obtained  from  him,  in  his  double  title  of  cousin 
and  countryman,  a gift  of  the  uninhabited  island 
where  he  had  just  established  his  community. 

These  Scots,  who  had  left  Ireland  after  the  con- 
version of  the  island  by  St  Patrick,  were  probably 
Christians,  like  all  the  Irish,  at  least  in  name ; but 
no  certain  trace  of  ecclesiastical  organisation  or  of 
monastic  institutions  is  visible  among  them  before 
Columba’s  arrival  at  Iona.  The  apostolate  of 
Ninian  and  of  Palladius  does  not  seem  to  have 
produced  a durable  impression  upon  them  any  more 
than  upon  the  Southern  Piets.  A new  apostolical 


His  Personal  Appearance.  55 

enterprise  by  Celtic  monks  was  necessary  to  renew 
the  work  at  which  the  Roman  missionaries  had 
laboured  a century  before.  Columba  and  his 
disciples  neglected  no  means  of  fortifying  and 
spreading  religion  among  their  countrymen,  who 
were  emigrants  like  themselves.  We  see  him  in 
the  narratives  of  Adamnan  administering  baptism 
and  the  other  rites  of  religion  to  the  people  of 
Scotic  race,  through  whose  lands  he  passed,  plant- 
ing there  the  first  foundations  of  monastic  com- 
munities. Many  narratives,  more  or  less  legend- 
ary, indicate  that  this  people,  even  when  Christian, 
had  grea  t need  to  be  instructed,  directed,  and  estab- 
lished in  the  good  way  ; while  at  the  same  time 
the  Dalriadians  showed  a certain  suspicion  and 
doubt  of  the  new  apostle  of  their  race,  which  only 
yielded  to  the  prolonged  influence  of  his  self-devo- 
tion and  unquestionable  virtue. 

Columba  was  still  in  the  flower  of  his  age  when 
he  established  himself  at  Iona;  he  was  not  more  at 
the  most  than  forty-two.  All  testimonies  agree  in 
celebrating  his  manly  beauty,  his  remarkable  height, 
his  sweet  and  sonorous  voice,  the  cordiality  of  his 
manner,  the  gracious  dignity  of  his  deportment  and 
person.  These  external  advantages,  added  to  the 
fame  of  his  austerities  and  the  inviolable  purity  of 
his  life,  made  a singular  and  varied  impression  upon 
the  pagans  and  the  very  imperfect  Christians  of 
Caledonia.  The  Dalriadian  king  put  his  virtue  to 
the  proof  by  presenting  to  him  his  daughter,  who 


56  His  Temptations . 

was  remarkably  beautiful,  and  clothed  in  the  richest 
ornaments.  He  asked  if  the  sight  of  a creature  so 
beautiful  and  so  adorned  did  not  excite  some  in- 
clination in  him.  “ Without  doubt,”  answered  the 
missionary,  “the  inclination  of  the  flesh  and  of 
nature;  but  understand  well,  lord  king,  that  not 
for  all  the  empire  of  the  world,  even  could  its  hon- 
ours and  pleasures  be  secured  to  me  to  the  end 
of  time,  would  I yield  to  my  natural  weakness.” 
About  the  same  time,  a woman  who  lived  not  far 
from  Iona  spread  for  him  a more  dangerous  and- 
subtle  snare.  The  celebrated  and  handsome  exile 
having  inspired  her  with  a violent  and  guilty  pas- 
sion, she  conceived  the  idea  of  seducing  him,  qtnd 
succeeded  in  drawing  him  to  her  house.  But  as 
soon  as  he  understood  her  design,  he  addressed  to 
her  an  exhortation  upon  death  and  the  last  judg- 
ment, which  he  ended  by  blessing  her,  and  making 
the  sign  of  the  cross.  The  temptress  was  thus 
delivered  even  from  her  own  temptations.  She  con- 
tinued to  love  him,  but  with  a religious  respect.  It  is 
added  that  she  herself  became  a model  of  holiness. 

But  it  was  towards  another  race,  very  different 
from  his  Scotic  countrymen  and  much  less  acces- 
sible, that  Columba  felt  himself  drawn  as  much  by 
the  penance  imposed  upon  him  as  by  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  Church  and  of  Christendom.  While  the 
Irish-Scots  occupied  the  islands  and  part  of  the  west- 
ern coast  of  Caledonia,  all  the  north  and  east — that 
is  to  say,  by  far  the  greater  part  of  the  country — 


Mission  to  the  Piets . 


57 


was  inhabited  by  the  Piets,  who  were  still  heathens. 
Originally  from  Sarmatia,  according  to  Tacitus 
according  to  Bede,  descendants  of  the  Scythians — 
these  primitive  inhabitants  of  Great  Britain,  who  had 
remained  untouched  by  Roman  or  Christian  influ- 
ences, owed  their  name  to  their  custom  of  fighting 
naked,  and  of  painting  their  bodies  in  various  col- 
ours, which  had  been  the  wont  of  all  the  ancient 
Britons  at  the  time  of  Caesar’s  invasion.  The  holy 
bishop  Ninian  more  than  a century  before  had 
preached  the  Christian  faith  to  the  Southern  Piets 
— that  is  to  say,  to  those  who  lived  on  the  banks  of 
the  Forth  or  scattered  among  the  Britons  in  the 
districts  south  of  that  river.  But  while  even  the 
traces  of  Ninian’s  apostolic  work  seemed  at  that 
moment  effaced,  although  destined  afterwards  to 
reappear,  the  great  majority  of  the  Piets — those 
who  inhabited  the  vast  tracts  to  the  north  of  the 
Grampians,  into  which  no  missionary  before  Co- 
lumba  had  ever  dared  to  penetrate — had  always 
continued  heathen.  The  thirty-four  years  of  life 
which  Columba  had  still  before  him  were  chiefly 
spent  in  missions,  undertaken  for  the  purpose  of 
carrying  the  faith  to  the  hilly  straths,  and  into  the 
deep  glens  and  numerous  islands  of  northern  Cale- 
donia. There  dwelt  a race,  warlike,  grasping,  and 
bold,  as  inaccessible  to  softness  as  to  fear,  only  half 
clothed  notwithstanding  the  severity  of  the  climate, 
and  obstinately  attached  to  their  customs,  belief, 
and  chiefs.  The  missionary  had  to  preach,  to  con- 


58  His  Labours  among  them . 

vert,  and  even  at  need  to  brave  those  formidable 
tribes,  in  whom  Tacitus  recognised  the  farthest  off 
of  the  earth’s  inhabitants,  and  the  last  champions  of 
freedom — u t err  arum  ac  libertatis  extremos  ; ” those 
barbarians  who,  having  gloriously  resisted  Agricola, 
drove  the  frightened  Romans  from  Britain,  and 
devastated  and  desolated  the  entire  island  up  to 
the  arrival  of  the  Saxons  ; and  whose  descendants, 
after  filling  the  history  of  Scotland  with  their  feats 
of  arms,  have  given,  under  the  name  of  Highlanders , 
to  the  fallen  Stuarts  their  most  dauntless  defenders, 
and  to  modern  England  her  most  glorious  soldiers. 

Columba  crossed  again  and  again  that  central 
mountain-range  in  which  rise  those  waters  which 
flow,  some  north  and  west  to  fall  into  the  Atlantic 
Ocean,  and  some  to  the  south  to  swell  the  North 
Sea — a range  which  the  biographer  of  the  saint  calls 
the  backbone  of  Britain  ( dorsum  Britannice\  and 
which  separates  the  counties  of  Inverness  and  Ar- 
gyll, as  now  existing,  from  the  county  of  Perth,  and 
includes  the  districts  so  well  known  to  travellers 
under  the  names  of  Breadalbane,  Atholl,  and  the 
Grampians.  This  was  the  recognised  boundary  be- 
tween the  Scots  and  Piets,  and  it  was  here  that  the 
ancestors  of  the  latter,  the  heroic  soldiers  of  Galga- 
cus,  had  held  their  ground  against  the  father-in-law 
of  Tacitus,  who  even  when  victorious  did  not  ven- 
ture to  cross  that  barrier.  Often,  too,  Columba  fol- 
lowed the  course  of  that  long  valley  of  waters  which, 
to  the  north  of  these  mountains,  traverses  Scotland 


Visit  to  the  Pictish  King . 59 

diagonally  from  the  south-west,  near  Iona,  to  the 
north-east  beyond  Inverness.  This  valley  is  formed 
by  a series  of  long  gulfs  and  of  inland  lakes,  which 
modern  industry  has  linked  together,  making  it  pos- 
sible for  boats  to  pass  from  one  sea  to  the  other 
without  making  the  long  round  by  the  Orcadian 
Isles.  Thirteen  centuries  ago  religion  alone  could 
undertake  the  conquest  of  those  wild  and  pictur- 
esque regions,  which  a scanty  but  fierce  and  suspi- 
cious population  disputed  with  the  fir-forests  and 
vast  tracts  of  fern  and  heather,  which  are  still  to  be 
encountered  there. 

The  first  glance  thrown  by  history  upon  this 
watery  highway  discovers  there  the  preaching  and 
miracles  of  Columba.  He  was  the  first  to  traverse 
in  his  little  skiff  Loch  Ness  and  the  river  which 
issues  from  it  \ he  penetrated  thus,  after  a long  and 
painful  j ourney,  to  the  principal  fortress  of  the  Pict- 
ish king,  the  site  of  which  is  still  shown  upon  a rock 
north  of  the  town  of  Inverness.  This  powerful  and 
redoubtable  monarch,  whose  name  was  Bruidh  or 
Brude,  son  of  Malcolm,  gave  at  first  a very  inhos- 
pitable reception  to  the  Irish  missionary.  The 
companions  of  the  saint  relate  that,  priding  himself 
upon  the  royal  magnificence  of  his  fortress,  he  gave 
orders  that  the  gates  should  not  be  opened  to  the 
unwelcome  visitor ; but  this  was  not  a command  to 
alarm  Columba.  He  went  up  to  the  gateway,  made 
the  sign  of  the  cross  upon  the  two  gates,  and  then 
knocked  with  his  hand.  Immediately  the  bars  and 


60  Opposition  of  the  Heathen  Priests . 

bolts  drew  back,  the  gates  rolled  upon  their  hinges 
and  were  thrown  wide  open,  and  Columba  entered 
like  a conqueror.  The  king,  though  surrounded  by 
his  council,  among  whom  no  doubt  were  his  heathen 
priests,  was  struck  with  panic ; he  hastened  to  meet 
the  missionary,  addressed  to  him  pacific  and  en- 
couraging words,  and  from  that  moment  gave  him 
every  honour.  It  is  not  recorded  whether  Bruidh 
himself  became  a Christian,  but  during  all  the  rest 
of  his  life  he  remained  the  friend  and  protector  of 
Columba.  He  confirmed  to  him  the  possession  of 
Iona,  the  sovereignty  of  which  he  seems  to  have 
disputed  with  his  rival  the  king  of  the  Dalriadian 
Scots,  and  our  exile  thus  saw  his  establishment 
placed  under  the  double  protection  of  the  two 
powers  which  shared  Caledonia  between  them. 

But  the  favour  of  the  king  did  not  bring  with  it 
that  of  the  heathen  priests,  who  are  indicated  by 
the  Christian  historians  under  the  name  of  Druids 
or  Magi,  and  who  made  an  energetic  and  persever- 
ing resistance  to  the  new  apostle.  These  priests 
do  not  seem  either  to  have  taught  or  practised  the 
worship  of  idols,  but  rather  that  of  natural  forces, 
and  especially  of  the  sun  and  other  celestial  bodies. 
They  followed  or  met  the  Irish  preacher  in  his 
apostolic  journeys,  less  to  refute  his  arguments  than 
to  hold  back  and  intimidate  those  whom  his  preach- 
ing gained  to  Christ.  The  religious  and  supernat- 
ural character  which  was  attributed  by  the  Druids 
of  Gaul  to  the  woods  and  ancient  trees,  was  attached 


His  Preaching  among  them . 61 

by  those  of  Caledonia  to  the  streams  and  fountains, 
some  of  which  were,  according  to  their  belief,  salu- 
tary and  beneficial,  while  others  were  deadly  to 
man.  Columba  made  special  efforts  to  forbid 
among  the  new  Christians  the  worship  of  sacred 
fountains,  and,  braving  the  threats  of  the  Druids, 
drank  in  their  presence  the  water  which  they 
affirmed  would  kill  any  man  who  dared  to  put  it  to 
his  lips.  But  they  used  no  actual  violence  against 
the  stranger  whom  their  prince  had  taken  under 
his  protection.  One  day,  when  Columba  and  his 
monks  came  out  of  the  enclosure  of  the  fort  in 
which  the  king  resided,  to  chant  vespers  according 
to  the  monastic  custom,  the  Druids  attempted  to 
prevent  them  from  singing,  lest  the  sound  of  the 
religious  chants  should  reach  the  people ; but  the 
abbot  instantly  intoned  the  sixty-fourth  psalm, 
“ Eructavit  cor  meum  verbum  bonum : dico  opera 
mea  regip  with  so  formidable  a voice,  that  he 
reduced  his  adversaries  to  silence,  and  made  the 
surrounding  spectators,  and  even  the  king  himself, 
tremble  before  him. 

But  he  did  not  confine  himself  to  chanting  in 
Latin;  he  preached.  The  dialect  of  the  Piets, 
however,  being  different  from  that  of  the  Scots,  and 
unknown  to  him,  it  was  necessary  to  employ  the 
services  of  an  interpreter.  But  his  words  were  not 
the  less  efficacious  on  this  account,  though  every- 
where he  was  met  by  the  rival  exhortations  or 
derisions  of  the  pagan  priests.  His  impassioned 


62 


A Child  recalled  to  Life . 

nature,  as  ready  to  love  as  to  hate,  made  itself  as 
apparent  in  his  apostolic  preachings  as  formerly 
in  the  struggles  of  his  youth ; and  ties  of  tender 
intimacy,  active  and  never  appealed  to  in  vain, 
were  soon  formed  between  himself  and  his  converts. 
One  of  the  Piets,  who,  having  heard  him  preach  by 
his  interpreter,  was  converted  with  his  wife  and  all 
his  family,  became  his  friend,  and  received  many 
visits  from  him.  One  of  the  sons  of  this  new  con- 
vert fell  dangerously  ill ; the  Druids  profited  by  the 
misfortune  to  reproach  the  anxious  parents,  making 
it  appear  that  the  sickness  of  their  child'  was  the 
punishment  of  their  apostasy,  and  boasting  the 
power  of  the  ancient  gods  of  the  country,  as 
superior  to  that  of  the  Christian’s  God.  Columba 
having  been  informed  hastened  to  his  friend’s  aid  : 
when  he  arrived  the  child  had  just  expired.  As 
soon  as  he  had  done  all  that  in  him  lay  to  console 
the  father  and  mother,  he  asked  to  be  allowed  to 
enter  alone  into  the  place  where  the  body  of  the 
child  was.  There  he  kneeled  down  and  prayed 
long,  bathed  in  tears  ; then  rising,  he  said,  “ In  the 
name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  return  to  life  and 
arise  ! ” At  the  same  moment  the  soul  came  back 
to  the  child’s  body.  Columba  helped  him  to  rise, 
supported  him,  led  him  out  of  the  cabin,  and  re- 
stored him  to  his  parents.  The  power  of  prayer 
was  thus  as  great,  says  Adamnan,  in  our  saint  as  in 
Elijah  and  Elisha  under  the  old  law,  or  in  St  Peter, 
St  Paul,  and  St  John  under  the  new. 


His  Tolerance . 


63 

While  thus  preaching  faith  and  the  grace  of  God 
by  the  voice  of  an  interpreter,  he  at  the  same  time 
recognised,  admired,  and  proclaimed  among  those 
savage  tribes  the  lights  and  virtues  of  the  law  of 
nature.  He  discovered  the  rays  of  its  radiance  in 
many  an  unknown  hearer,  by  the  help  of  that  super- 
natural gift  which  enabled  him  to  read  the  secrets 
of  the  heart,  and  to  penetrate  the  darkness  of  the 
future ; a gift  which  developed  itself  more  and 
more  in  him  as  his  apostolical  career  went  on. 
One  day  while  labouring  in  his  evangelical  work  in 
the  principal  island  of  the  Hebrides,  the  one  which 
lies  nearest  to  the  mainland — Skye — he  cried  out  all 
at  once,  “ My  sons,  to-day  you  will  see  an  ancient 
Pictish  chief,  who  has  kept  faithfully  all  his  life  the 
precepts  of  the  natural  law,  arrive  in  this  island ; he 
comes  to  be  baptised  and  to  die.”  Immediately 
after,  a boat  was  seen  to  approach  the  shore  with 
a feeble  old  man  seated  in  the  prow,  who  was 
recognised  as  the  chief  of  one  of  the  neighbouring 
tribes.  Two  of  his  companions  took  him  up  in 
their  arms  and  brought  him  before  the  missionary, 
to  whose  words,  as  repeated  by  the  interpreter, 
he  listened  attentively.  When  the  discourse  was 
ended  the  old  man  asked  to  be  baptised ; and  im- 
mediately after  breathed  his  last  breath,  and  was 
buried  in  the  very  spot  where  he  had  just  been 
brought  to  shore. 

At  a later  date,  in  one  of  his  last  missions,  when, 
himself  an  old  man,  he  travelled  along  the  banks 


64 


Release  of  a Slave . 


of  Loch  Ness,  always  in  the  district  to  the  north  of 
the  mountain-range  of  the  dorsum  Britannia , he 
said  to  the  disciples  who  accompanied  him,  “ Let 
us  make  haste  and  meet  the  angels  who  have  come 
down  from  heaven,  and  who  wait  for  us  beside  a 
Piet  who  has  done  well  according  to  the  natural 
law  during  his  whole  life  to  extreme  old  age  : we 
must  baptise  him  before  he  dies.”  Then  hastening 
his  steps  and  outstripping  his  disciples,  as  much  as 
was  possible  at  his  great  age,  he  reached  a retired 
valley,  now  called  Glen  Urquhart,  where  he  found 
the  old  man  who  awaited  him.  Here  there  was  no 
longer  any  need  of  an  interpreter,  which  makes  it 
probable  that  Columba  in  his  old  age  had  learned 
the  Pictish  dialect.  The  old  Piet  heard  him  preach, 
was  baptised,  and  with  joyful  serenity  gave  up  to 
God  the  soul  which  was  awaited  by  those  angels 
whom  Columba  saw. 

In  this  generous  heart  humanity  claimed  its 
rights  no  less  than  justice.  It  was  in  the  name  of 
humanity,  his  biographer  expressly  tells  us,  that  he 
begged  the  freedom  of  a young  female  slave,  born 
in  Ireland,  and  the  captive  of  one  of  the  principal 
Druids  or  Magi.  This  Druid  was  named  Broichan, 
and  lived  with  the  king,  whose  foster-father  he  was, 
a tie  of  singular  force  and  authority  among  the 
Celtic  nations.  Either  from  a savage  pride,  or  out 
of  enmity  to  the  new  religion,  the  Druid  obstinately 
and  cruelly  refused  the  prayer  of  Columba.  “ Be 
it  so,”  said  the  apostle ) “ but  learn,  Broichan,  that 


Druidical  Hostility . 65 

if  thou  refusest  to  set  free  this  foreign  captive,  thou 
shalt  die  before  I leave  the  province.”  When  he 
had  said  this  he  left  the  castle,  directing  his  steps 
towards  that  river  Ness  which  appears  so  often  in 
his  history.  But  he  was  soon  overtaken  by  two 
horsemen  who  came  from  the  king  to  tell  him  that 
Broichan,  the  victim  of  an  accident,  was  dying, 
and  fully  disposed  to  set  the  young  Irish  girl  free. 
The  saint  took  up  from  the  river  bank  a pebble, 
which  he  blessed,  and  gave  to  two  of  his  monks, 
with  the  assurance  that  the  sick  man  would  be 
healed  by  drinking  water  in  which  this  stone  had 
been  steeped,  but  only  on  the  express  condition 
that  the  captive  should  be  delivered.  She  was  im- 
mediately put  under  the  charge  of  Columba’s  com- 
panions, and  was  thus  restored  at  the  same  moment 
to  her  country  and  her  freedom. 

The  Druid,  though  healed,  was  not  thereby  ren- 
dered less  hostile  to  the  apostle.  Like  the  magi- 
cians of  Pharaoh,  he  attempted  to  raise  nature  and 
her  forces  against  the  new  Moses.  On  the  day 
fixed  for  his  departure,  Columba  found,  on  reach- 
ing, followed  by  a numerous  crowd,  the  banks  of 
the  long  and  narrow  lake  from  which  the  Ness 
issues,  and  by  which  he  meant  to  travel,  a strong 
contrary  wind  and  thick  fog,  as  Broichan  had 
threatened,  which  the  Druids  exulted  to  see.  But 
Columba,  entering  his  boat,  bade  the  frightened 
rowers  set  the  sail  against  the  wind,  and  the  as- 
sembled people  saw  him  proceed  rapidly  on  his 

E 


66  Fellow-labourers  with  the  Saint . 


course,  as  if  borne  by  favourable  breezes,  towards 
the  south  end  of  the  lake,  by  which  he  returned  to 
Iona.  But  he  left  only  to  make  a speedy  return, 
and  came  so  often  as  to  accomplish  the  conversion 
of  the  Pictish  nation,  by  destroying  for  ever  the 
authority  of  the  Druids  in  this  last  refuge  of  Celtic 
paganism.  This  sanguinary  and  untamable  race  was 
finally  conquered  by  the  Irish  missionary.  Before 
he  ended  his  glorious  career  he  had  sown  their 
forests,  their  defiles,  their  inaccessible  mountains, 
their  savage  moors,  and  scarcely  inhabited  islands, 
with  churches  and  monasteries. 

Columba’s  assistants,  in  his  numerous  missions 
among  the  Piets,  were  the  monks  who  had  come 
with  him,  or  who  had  followed  him  from  Ireland. 
The  fame  of  the  obscure  benefactors  and  civilisers 
of  so  distant  a region  has  still  more  completely  dis- 
appeared than  that  of  Columba  : it  is  with  difficulty 
that  some  lingering  trace  of  them  is  to  be  disen- 
tangled from  the  traditions  of  some  churches 
whose  sites  may  yet  be  found  upon  the  ancient 
maps  of  Scotland.  Such  was  Malruve  (642-722), 
a kinsman  of  Columba,  and  like  him  descended 
from  the  royal  race  of  Niall,  but  educated  in  the 
great  Monastery  of  Bangor,  which  he  left  to  follow 
his  illustrious  cousin  into  Albyn,  passing  by  Iona. 
He  must  have  long  survived  Columba,  for  he  was 
for  fifty-one  years  abbot  of  a community  at  Aper- 
crossan — now  Applecross — upon  the  north-west 
coast  of  Caledonia,  opposite  the  large  island  of  Skye, 


The  Monastery  of  Tears.  67 

before  he  met  his  death,  which  was,  according  to 
local  tradition,  by  the  sword  of  Norwegian  pirates. 

Upon  the  opposite  shore,  in  that  striking  pro- 
montory which  forms  the  eastern  extremity  of 
Scotland,  a district  now  known  as  Buchan,  various 
churches  trace  their  origin  to  Columba,  and  to  one 
of  his  Irish  disciples  called  Drostan.  The  mor-maer 
or  chief  of  the  country  had  at  first  refused  them  his 
permission  to  settle  there,  but  his  son  fell  danger- 
ously ill,  and  he  hastened  after  the  missionaries, 
offering  them  the  land  necessary  for  their  founda- 
tion, and  begging  them  to  pray  for  the  dying  boy. 
They  prayed,  and  the  child  was  saved.  After 
having  blessed  the  new  church,  and  predicted  that 
none  who  profaned  it  should  ever  conquer  their 
enemies  or  enjoy  long  life,  Columba  installed  his 
companions  in  their  new  home,  and  himself  turned 
to  continue  his  journey.  When  Drostan  saw  him- 
self thus  condemned  to  live  at  a distance  from  his 
master,  he  could  not  restrain  his  tears ; for  these 
old  saints,  in  their  wild  and  laborious  career,  loved 
each  other  with  a passionate  tenderness,  which  is 
certainly  not  the  least  touching  feature  in  their 
character,  and  which  places  an  inextinguishable 
light  upon  their  heads  amid  the  darkness  of  the 
legends.  “Then,”  Columba  said,  “let  us  call  this 
place  the  Monastery  of  Tears;”  and  the  great 
abbey — that  of  Deir — which  lasted  a thousand 
years  upon  that  spot,  always  retained  the  name. 
“ He  who  sows  in  tears  shall  reap  in  joy.” 


68 


CHAPTER  IV. 

©olumba  consecrates  tjje  3£tng  of  tty  Scots.  — P?e 
goes  to  tty  Jiattonal  gfssemblg  of  Erelanti,  Ue= 
fentiss  tjc  Inbcpenticnce  of  tty  ?t?tktno=jccotic 
©olong,  anD  sabes  tty  ©orporatton  of  30arbs. 

T would  not,  however,  be  natural  to 
suppose  that  the  mission  of  Columba 
among  the  Piets  could  entirely  ab- 
sorb his  life  and  soul.  That  faithful 
love  for  his  race  and  country  which  had  moved 
him  with  compassion  for  the  young  Irish  girl  in 
captivity  among  the  Piets  did  not  permit  him  to 
remain  indifferent  to  the  wars  and  revolutions 
which  were  at  the  bottom  of  all  national  life 
among  the  Irish  Scots  as  well  as  the  Irish  colony 
in  Scotland.  There  was  not  a more  marked  feature 
in  his  character  than  his  constant  solicitude,  his 
compassionate  sympathy,  as  well  after  as  before  his 
removal  to  Iona,  for  the  bloody  struggles  in  which 
his  companions  and  relatives  in  Ireland  were  so 


Sympathy  with  Ireland.  69 

often  engaged.  Nothing  was  nearer  to  his  heart 
than  the  claim  of  kindred ; for  that  reason  alone 
he  occupied  himself  without  ceasing  with  the  affairs 
of  individual  relatives.  “ This  man,”  he  said  to 
himself,  “ is  of  my  race ; I must  help  him.  It  is 
my  duty  to  pray  for  him,  because  he  is  of  the  same 
stock  as  myself.  This  other  is  of  kin  to  my 
mother,”  &c.  And  then  he  would  add,  “ My 
friends  and  kindred,  who  are  descended  like  me 
from  the  Nialls,  see  how  they  fight ! ” And  from 
the  far  distance  of  his  desert  isle  he  fought  with 
them  in  heart  and  thought,  as  of  old  he  had  aided 
them  in  person.  He  breathed  from  afar  the  air 
of  battle ; he  divined  the  issue  by  what  his  com- 
panions considered  a prophetic  instinct,  and  told  it 
to  his  monks,  to  his  Irish  countrymen,  and  to  the 
Caledonian  Scots  who  sought  him  in  his  new  dwell- 
ing. With  better  reason  still  his  soul  kindled  within 
him  when  he  foresaw  any  struggle  in  which  his 
new  neighbours  the  Dalriadian  colonists  were  to 
be  engaged,  either  with  the  Piets,  whom  they  were 
one  day  to  conquer,  or  with  the  Anglo-Saxons. 

One  day  towards  the  end  of  his  life,  being  alone 
with  Diarmid  his  minister  (as  the  monk  attached 
to  his  personal  service  was  called),  he  cried  out  all 
at  once,  “The  bell ! let  the  bell  be  rung  instantly!” 
The  bell  of  the  modest  monastery  was  nothing  bet- 
ter than  one  of  the  little  square  bells  made  of  beaten 
iron,  which  are  still  shown  in  Irish  museums,  ex- 
actly similar  to  those  which  are  worn  by  the  cattle 


70  Anglo-Saxon  Invaders . 

in  Spain  and  the  Jura.  It  was  enough  for  the 
necessities  of  the  little  insular  community.  At  its 
sound  the  monks  hastened  to  throw  themselves  on 
their  knees  around  their  father.  “ Now,”  said  he, 
“let  us  pray — let  us  pray  with  intense  fervour  for 
our  people,  and  for  King  Aidan ; for  at  this  very 
moment  the  battle  has  begun  between  them  and 
the  barbarians.”  When  their  prayers  had  lasted 
some  time,  he  said,  “ Behold,  the  barbarians  flee  ! 
Aidan  is  victorious  !” 

The  barbarians,  against  whom  Columba  rang  his 
bells  and  called  for  the  prayers  of  his  monks,  were 
the  Anglo-Saxons  of  Northumbria,  who  were  still 
pagans,  and  whose  descendants  were  destined  to 
owe  the  inestimable  blessings  of  Christianity  to  the 
monks  of  Iona  and  the  spiritual  posterity  of  Co- 
lumba. But  at  that  time  the  invaders  thought  only 
of  taking  a terrible  revenge  for  the  evils  which 
Britain,  before  they  conquered  it,  had  endured  from 
Scoto-Pictish  incursions,  and  of  extending  their 
power  ever  farther  and  farther  on  the  Caledonian 
side.  As  for  King  Aidan,  he  had  replaced  his 
cousin-german,  King  Connall,  who  had  guaranteed 
to  Columba  the  possession  of  Iona,  as  chief  of  the 
Dalriadian  colony  in  Argyll.  His  accession  to  the 
throne  took  place  in  574,  eleven  years  after  the 
arrival  of  Columba ; and  nothing  proves  more  fully 
the  influence  acquired  by  the  Irish  missionary  dur- 
ing this  short  interval  than  Aidan’s  resolution  to 
have  his  coronation  blessed  by  the  Abbot  of  Iona. 


Consecration  of  King  A'idan . 71 

Columba,  though  his  friend,  did  not  wish  him  to  be 
king,  preferring  his  brother ; but  an  angel  appeared 
to  him  three  times  in  succession,  and  commanded 
him  to  consecrate  Aidan  according  to  the  ceremony 
prescribed  in  a book  covered  with  crystal  which 
was  left  with  him  for  that  purpose.  Columba,  who 
was  then  in  a neighbouring  island,  went  back  to 
Iona,  where  he  was  met  by  the  new  king.  The 
abbot,  obedient  to  the  celestial  vision,  laid  his 
hands  upon  the  head  of  Aidan,  blessed  him,  and 
ordained  him  king.  He  inaugurated  thus  not  only 
a new  kingdom,  but  a new  rite,  which  became  at  a 
later  date  the  most  august  solemnity  of  Christian 
national  life.  The  coronation  of  A'idan  is  the  first 
authentic  instance  known  in  the  West.  Columba 
thus  assumed,  in  respect  to  the  Scotic  or  Dalriadian 
kingdom,  the  same  authority  with  which  the  abbots 
of  Armagh,  successors  of  St  Patrick,  were  already 
invested  in  respect  to  the  kings  of  Ireland.  That 
this  supreme  authority  and  these  august  functions 
were  conferred  upon  abbots  instead  of  bishops,  has 
been  the  cause  of  much  surprise.  But  at  that 
period  of  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  Celtic  nations 
the  episcopate  was  entirely  in  the  shade ; the  abbots 
and  monks  alone  appear  to  have  been  great  and 
influential,  and  the  successors  of  St  Columba  long 
retained  this  singular  supremacy  over  the  bishops. 

According  to  Scotch  national  tradition,  the  new 
king  Aidan  was  consecrated  by  Columba  upon  a 
great  stone  called  the  Stone  of  Destiny.  This  stone 


72 


The  Stone  of  Destiny . 


was  afterwards  transferred  to  Dunstaffnage  Castle, 
the  ruins  of  which  may  be  seen  upon  the  coast  of 
Argyll,  not  far  from  Iona;  then  to  the  Abbey  of 
Scone,  near  Perth ; and  was  finally  carried  away  by 
Edward  I.,  the  cruel  conqueror  of  Scotland,  to 
Westminster,  where  it  still  serves  as  a pedestal  for 
the  throne  of  the  kings  of  England  on  the  day  of 
their  coronation.  The  solemn  inauguration  of  the 
kingdom  of  Aidan  marks  the  historical  beginning 
of  the  Scotch  monarchy,  which  before  that  period 
was  more  or  less  fabulous.  Aidan  was  the  first 
prince  of  the  Scots  who  passed  from  the  rank  of 
territorial  chief  to  that  of  independent  king,  and 
head  of  a dynasty  whose  descendants  were  one  day 
to  reign  over  the  three  kingdoms  of  Great  Britain. 

But  to  secure  the  independence  of  the  new  Scot- 
tish royalty,  or  rather  of  the  young  nation  whose 
stormy  and  poetic  history  was  thus  budding  under 
the  breath  and  blessing  of  Columba,  it  was  neces- 
sary to  break  the  link  of  subjugation  or  vassalage 
which  bound  the  Dalriadian  colony  to  the  Irish 
kings.  All  this  time  it  had  remained  tributary  to 
the  monarchs  of  the  island  which  it  had  left  nearly 
a century  before  to  establish  itself  in  Caledonia. 
To  obtain  by  peaceable  means  the  abolition  of  this 
tribute,  Columba — who  was  Irish  by  heart  as  well 
as  by  birth,  yet  who  at  the  same  time  was,  like  the 
Dalriadians,  his  kinsmen,  an  emigrant  in  Caledonia, 
and,  like  the  new  king,  descended  from  the  mon- 
archs of  Ireland — must  have  seemed  the  mediator 


Mission  to  Ireland \ 


73 


indicated  by  nature.  He  accepted  the  mission, 
and  returned  to  Ireland,  which  he  had  thought 
never  to  see  again,  in  company  with  the  king  whom 
he  had  just  crowned,  to  endeavour  to  come  to  an 
agreement  with  the  Irish  monarch  and  the  other 
princes  and  chiefs  assembled  at  Drumkeath.  His 
impartiality  was  above  all  suspicion ; for  the  very 
day  of  the  coronation  of  A'idan  he  had  announced 
to  him,  in  the  name  of  God,  that  the  prosperity  of 
the  new  Scotic  kingdom  depended  upon  peace  with 
Ireland,  its  cradle.  In  the  midst  of  the  ceremony 
he  had  said  aloud  to  the  king  whom  he  had  crowned, 
“ Charge  your  sons,  and  let  them  charge  their 
grandchildren,  never  to  expose  their  kingdom  to  be 
lost  by  their  fault.  The  moment  that  they  attempt 
any  fraudulent  enterprise  against  my  spiritual  de- 
scendants here,  or  against  my  countrymen  and 
kindred  in  Ireland,  the  hand  of  God  will  weigh 
heavily  upon  them,  the  heart  of  men  will  be  raised 
against  them,  and  the  victory  of  their  enemies  will 
be  assured.” 

The  king  of  Ireland,  Diarmid,  who  was,  like  Co- 
lumba,  of  the  race  of  Niall,  but  of  the  Nialls  of  the 
North,  and  whom  our  saint  had  so  violently  re- 
sisted, had  died  immediately  after  the  voluntary 
exile  of  Columba.  He  perished,  as  has  been  men- 
tioned, by  the  hand  of  a prince  called  Black  Aedh, 
chief  of  the  Antrim  Dalriadians,  who  remained  in 
Ireland  when  a part  of  their  clan  emigrated  to 
Scotland.  Some  time  afterwards  the  supreme 


74  P arliament  of  Drumceitt. 

throne  of  Ireland  fell  to  another  Aedh,  of  the  south- 
ern branch  of  the  race  of  Niall,  and  consequently 
of  the  same  stock  as  Columba.  He  was  also  the 
friend  and  benefactor  of  his  emigrant  cousin,  to 
whom  he  had  given  before  his  exile  the  site  of 
Derry,  the  most  important  of  his  Irish  foundations. 
The  first  synod  or  parliament  of  Aedh’s  reign  had 
been  convoked  in  a place  called  Drumceitt,  now 
Drumkeath,  the  Whale's  Back , situated  in  his 
special  patrimony,  not  far  from  the  sea  and  the  gulf 
of  Lough  Foyle,  where  Columba  had  embarked,  and 
at  the  further  end  of  which  was  his  dear  monastery 
of  Derry.  It  was  there  that  he  returned  with  his 
royal  client,  the  new  king  of  the  Caledonian  Scots, 
whose  confessor,  or,  as  the  Irish  termed  it,  friend 
of  his  soul \ he  had  become.  The  two  kings,  Aedh 
and  Aidan,  presided  at  this  assembly,  which  sat  for 
fourteen  months,  and  the  recollection  of  which  has 
been  preserved  among  the  Irish  people,  the  most 
faithful  nation  in  the  world,  for  more  than  a thou- 
sand years. 

The  Irish  lords  and  clergy  encamped  under  tents 
like  soldiers  during  the  entire  duration  of  this  ‘par- 
liament. The  most  important  question  discussed 
among  them  was  no  doubt  that  of  the  tribute  ex- 
acted from  the  king  of  the  Dalriadians.  It  does 
not  appear  that  the  Irish  king  demanded  tribute 
on  account  of  the  new  kingdom  founded  by  his  an- 
cient subjects,  but  rather  on  account  of  that  part  of 
Ireland  itself,  at  present  the  county  of  Antrim,  from 


75 


Defence  of  the  Bards . 

whence  the  Dalriadian  colonists  had  gone,  and  which 
was  the  hereditary  patrimony  of  their  new  king. 
This  was  precisely  the  position  in  which  the  Nor- 
man princes,  who  had  become  kings  of  England, 
while  still  dukes  of  Normandy,  found  themselves, 
five  centuries  later,  in  respect  to  the  kings  of  France. 
Columba,  the  friend  of  both  kings,  was  commissioned 
to  solve  the  difficulty.  According  to  some  Irish 
authors,  the  Abbot  of  Iona,  when  the  decisive  mo- 
ment arrived,  refused  to  decide,  and  transferred  to 
another  monk,  St  Colman,  the  responsibility  of  pro- 
nouncing the  judgment.  At  all  events,  the  Irish 
king  renounced  all  suzerainty  over  the  king  of  the 
Dalriadians  of  Albania,  as  Scotland  was  then  called. 
Independence  and  freedom  from  all  tribute  were 
granted  to  the  Albanian  Scots,  who,  on  their  side, 
promised  perpetual  alliance  and  hospitality  to  their 
Irish  countrymen. 

Columba  had  another  cause  to  plead  at  the  par- 
liament of  Drumceitt,  which  was  almost  as  dear  to 
his  heart  as  the  independence  of  the  Scotic  kingdom 
and  colony  of  which  he  was  the  spiritual  head. 
The  question  in  this  case  was  nothing  less  than 
that  of  the  existence  of  a corporation  as  powerful 
as,  and  more  ancient  and  national  than,  the  clergy 
itself : it  concerned  the  bards,  who  were  at  once 
poets  and  genealogists,  historians  and  musicians, 
and  whose  high  position  and  popular  ascendancy 
form  one  of  the  most  characteristic  features  of  Irish 
history.  The  entire  nation,  always  enamoured  of  its 


76  Corporation  of  the  Bards . 

traditions,  its  fabulous  antiquity,  and  local  and  do- 
mestic glory,  surrounded  with  ardent  and  respectful 
sympathy  the  men  who  could  clothe  in  a poetic 
dress  all  the  lore  and  superstitions  of  the  past,  as  well 
as  the  passions  and  interests  of  the  present.  In  the 
annals  of  Ireland,  as  far  back  as  they  can  be  traced, 
the  bards  or  ollambh , who  were  regarded  as  oracles 
of  knowledge,  of  poetry,  history,  and  music,  are 
always  to  be  found.  They  were  trained  from  their 
infancy  with  the  greatest  care  in  special  communi- 
ties, and  so  greatly  honoured  that  the  first  place 
at  the  royal  table,  after  that  of  the  king  himself, 
was  reserved  for  them.  Since  the  introduction  of 
Christianity,  the  bards,  like  the  Druids  of  earlier 
times,  whose  successors  they  are  supposed  to  have 
been,  continued  to  form  a powerful  and  popular 
band.  They  were  then  divided  into  three  orders  : 
the  Fileas , who  sang  of  religion  and  of  war ; the  Bre- 
hons , whose  name  is  associated  with  the  ancient 
laws  of  the  country,  which  they  versified  and  recited ; 
the  Seanachies , who  enshrined  in  verse  the  national 
history  and  antiquities,  and,  above  all,  the  gene- 
alogies and  prerogatives  of  the  ancient  families 
who  were  specially  dear  to  the  national  and  war- 
like passions  of  the  Irish  people.  They  carried  this 
guardianship  of  historical  recollections  and  relics 
so  far  as  to  watch  over  the  boundaries  of  each  pro- 
vince and  family  domain.  They  took  part,  like 
the  clergy,  in  all  the  assemblies,  and  with  still 
greater  reason  in  ail  the  fights.  They  were  over- 


Its  proposed  A bolition.  7 7 

whelmed  with  favours  and  privileges  by  the  kings 
and  petty  princes,  on  whom  their  songs  and  their 
harp  could  alone  bestow  a place  in  history,  or  even 
a good  name  among  their  contemporaries.  But 
naturally  this  great  power  had  produced  many 
abuses,  and  at  the  moment  of  which  we  speak,  the 
popularity  of  the  bards  had  suffered  an  eclipse.  A 
violent  opposition  had  been  raised  against  them. 
Their  great  number,  their  insolence,  their  insatiable 
greed,  had  all  been  made  subjects  of  reproach  ; 
and,  above  all,  they  were  censured  for  having 
made  traffic  and  a trade  of  their  poetry— of  lavish- 
ing praises  upon  the  nobles  and  princes  who  were 
liberal  to  them,  and  making  others  the  subject  of 
satirical  invectives,  which  the  charm  of  their  verse 
spread  but  too  readily,  to  the  great  injury  of  the 
honour  of  families.  The  enmities  raised  against 
them  had  come  to  such  a point,  that  King  Aedh 
felt  himself  in  sufficient  force  to  propose  to  the 
assembly  of  Drumceitt  the  radical  abolition  of  this 
dangerous  order,  and  the  banishment,  and  even 
outlawry,  if  not,  as  some  say,  the  massacre,  of  all 
the  bards. 

It  is  not  apparent  that  the  clergy  took  any  part 
whatever  in  this  persecution  of  a body  which  they 
might  well  have  regarded  as  their  rivals.  The  in- 
troduction of  Christianity  into  the  country  of  Ossian, 
under  St  Patrick,  seems  scarcely,  if  at  all,  to  have 
affected  the  position  of  the  bards.  They  became 
Christians  without  either  inflicting  or  suffering  any 


78  They  are  saved  by  St  Columba. 

violence,  and  they  were  in  general  the  auxiliaries 
and  friends  of  the  bishops,  monks,  and  saints.  Each 
monastery,  like  each  prince  and  lord,  possessed  a 
bard,  whose  office  it  was  to  sing  the  glory,  and 
often  to  write  the  annals,  of  the  community.  Not- 
withstanding, it  is  apparent  through  many  of  the 
legends  of  the  period,  that  the  bards  represented 
a pagan  power,  in  the  eyes  of  many  ecclesiastical 
writers,  and  that  they  were  willingly  identified  with 
those  Druids  or  Magi  who  had  been  the  principal 
enemies  of  the  evangelical  mission  of  Patrick  in 
Ireland  and  of  Columba  in  Scotland.  Even  in 
the  legend  of  Columba  it  is  noted  that  some 
among  them  had  determined  to  make  him  pay 
for  his  ransom  according  to  their  custom,  and  had 
for  this  end  addressed  to  him  importunate  solicita- 
tions, threatening,  if  he  refused,  to  abuse  him  in 
their  verse. 

Notwithstanding,  it  was  Columba  who  saved 
them.  He  who  was  born  a poet  and  remained  a 
poet  to  the  last  day  of  his  life,  interceded  for  them, 
and  gained  their  cause.  His  success  was  not  with- 
out difficulty,  for  King  Aedh  was  eager  in  their 
pursuit ; but  Columba,  as  stubborn  as  bold,  made 
head  against  all.  He  represented  that  care  must 
be  taken  not  to  pull  up  the  good  corn  with  the 
tares  ; that  the  general  exile  of  the'  poets  would 
be  the  death  of  a venerable  antiquity  and  of  that 
poetry  which  was  so  dear  to  the  country  and  so 
useful  to  those  who  knew  how  to  employ  it.  The 


79 


His  Sympathy  with  them . 

ripe  corn  must  not  be  burned,  he  said,  because  of 
the  weeds  that  mingle  with  it.  The  king  and  the 
assembly  yielded  at  length,  under  condition  that 
the  number  of  bards  should  be  henceforward 
limited,  and  that  their  profession  should  be  put 
under  certain  rules  determined  by  Columba  him- 
self. It  was  his  eloquence  alone  which  turned 
aside  the  blow  by  which  they  were  threatened; 
and  knowing  themselves  to  be  saved  by  him,  they 
showed  their  gratitude  by  exalting  his  glory  in 
their  songs  and  by  leaving  to  their  successors  the 
charge  of  continuing  his  praise. 

Columba  himself  had  a profound  pleasure  in  this 
poetical  popularity.  The  corporation  of  bards  had 
a chief,  Dalian  Fergall,  who  was  blind,  and  whose 
violent  death  (he  was  murdered  by  pirates)  has 
given  him  a place  among  the  holy  martyrs,  of  whom 
there  are  so  few  in  Ireland.  Immediately  after  the 
favourable  decision  of  the  assembly,  Dalian  com- 
posed a song  in  honour  of  Columba,  and  came  to 
sing  it  before  him.  At  the  flattering  sounds  of  this 
song  of  gratitude  the  Abbot  of  Iona  could  not 
defend  himself  from  a human  sentiment  of  self- 
satisfaction.  But  he  was  immediately  reproved  by 
one  of  his  monks,  Baithen,  one  of  his  twelve 
original  companions  in  exile,  and  who  was  destined 
to  be  his  successor.  This  faithful  friend  was  not 
afraid  to  accuse  Columba  of  pride,  nor  to  tell  him 
that  he  saw  a sombre  cloud  of  demons  flying  and 
playing  round  his  head.  Columba  profited  by  the 


8o 


The  Ambhra. 


warning.  He  imposed  silence  upon  Dalian,  re- 
minding him  that  it  was  only  the  dead  who  should 
be  praised,  and  absolutely  forbade  him  to  repeat 
his  song.  Dalian  obeyed  reluctantly,  and  awaited 
the  death  of  the  saint  to  make  known  his  poem, 
which  became  celebrated  in  Irish  literature  under 
the  name  of  Ambhra , or  the  Praise  of  St  Columbcille. 
It  was  still  sung  a century  after  his  death  through- 
out all  Ireland  and  Scotland,  and  even  the  least 
devout  of  men  repeated  it  with  tenderness  and 
fervour,  as  a safeguard  against  the  dangers  of  war 
and  every  other  accident.  It  even  came  to  be 
believed  that  every  one  who  knew  this  Ambhra  by 
heart  and  sang  it  piously  would  die  a good  death. 
But  when  the  unenlightened  people  came  so  far  as 
to  believe  that  even  great  sinners,  without  either 
conversion  or  penitence,  had  only  to  sing  the 
Ambhra  of  Columbcille  every  day  in  order  to  be 
saved,  a wonder  happened,  says  the  historian  and 
grandnephew  of  the  saint,  which  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  faithful,  by  showing  to  them  how  they  ought 
to  understand  the  privileges  accorded  by  God  to 
His  saints.  An  ecclesiastic  of  the  metropolitan 
church  of  Armagh,  who  was  a man  of  corrupt  life, 
and  desired  to  be  saved  without  making  any  change 
in  his  conduct,  succeeded  in  learning  the  half  of 
the  famous  Ambhra,  but  never  could  remember  the 
other  half.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  made  a pilgrim- 
age to  the  tomb  of  the  saint,  fasted,  prayed,  and 
spent  the  entire  night  in  efforts  to  impress  it  upon 


8 1 


Irish  Poetry . 

his  memory  — the  next  morning  he  found  that, 
though  he  had  at  length  succeeded  in  learning  the 
latter  half,  he  had  completely  forgotten  the  first. 

The  gratitude  of  the  bards  to  him  who  had  pre- 
served them  from  exile  and  outlawry  has  certainly 
had  some  share  in  the  wonderful  and  lasting  popu- 
larity of  Columba’s  name.  Shrined  in  the  national 
and  religious  poetry  of  the  two  islands,  his  fame 
has  not  only  lasted  in  full  brilliancy  in  Ireland,  but 
it  has  survived  even  the  Reformation — which  has 
destroyed  almost  all  other  traces  of  their  past  his- 
tory as  Christians — in  the  memory  of  the  Celts  of 
Scotland. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  protection  of  Columba 
certainly  confirmed  the  popularity  of  the  bards  in 
the  heart  of  the  Irish  nation.  All  opposition  be- 
tween the  religious  spirit  and  the  bardic  influence 
disappeared  from  his  time.  Music  and  poetry  after 
that  period  identified  themselves  more  and  more 
with  ecclesiastical  life.  Among  the  relics  of  the 
saints  the  harps  on  which  they  had  played  found  a 
place.  At  the  first  English  conquest  the  bishops 
and  abbots  excited  the  surprise  of  the  invaders  by 
their  love  of  music,  and  by  accompanying  them- 
selves on  the  harp.  Irish  poetry,  which  was  in  the 
days  of  Patrick  and  Columba  so  powerful  and  so 
popular,  has  long  undergone  in  the  country  of 
Ossian  the  same  fate  as  the  religion  of  which  these 
great  saints  were  the  apostles.  Rooted  like  it  in 
the  heart  of  a conquered  people,  and  like  it  pro- 


F 


82  Persecution  of  the  Bards 

scribed  and  persecuted  with  unwearying  vehemence, 
it  has  come  ever  forth  anew  from  the  bloody  furrow 
in  which  it  was  supposed  to  be  buried.  The  bards 
became  the  most  powerful  allies  of  patriotism,  the 
most  dauntless  prophets  of  national  independence, 
and  also  the  favourite  victims  of  the  cruelty  of 
spoilers  and  conquerors.  They  made  music  and 
poetry  weapons  and  bulwarks  against  foreign  op- 
pression, and  the  oppressors  used  them  as  they  had 
used  the  priests  and  the  nobles.  A price  was  set 
upon  their  heads.  But  while  the  last  scions  of  the 
royal  and  noble  races,  decimated  or  ruined  in 
Ireland,  departed,  to  die  out  under  a foreign  sky 
amid  the  miseries  of  exile,  the  successor  of  the 
bards,  the  minstrel,  whom  nothing  could  tear  from 
his  native  soil,  was  pursued,  tracked,  and  taken  like 
a wild  beast,  or  chained  and  slaughtered  like  the 
most  dangerous  of  rebels. 

In  the  annals  of  the  atrocious  legislation  directed 
by  the  English  against  the  Irish  people,  as  well 
before  as  after  the  Reformation,  special  penalties 
against  the  minstrels , lards,  rhymers , and  genealo- 
gists, who  sustained  the  lords  and  gentlemen  in 
their  love  of  rebellion  and  of  other  crimes,  are  to 
be  met  at  every  step.  An  attempt  was  made, 
under  the  sanguinary  Elizabeth,  to  give  pecuniary 
recompense  to  those  who  would  celebrate  “ her 
Majesty’s  most  worthy  praise.”  The  bargain  was 
accepted  by  none.  All  preferred  flight  or  death  to 
this  salary  of  lies.  Wandering  over  hill  and  dale, 


in  after  times. 


83 

hidden  in  the  depths  of  the  devastated  country, 
they  perpetuated  there  the  poetic  traditions  of  their 
condemned  race,  and  sang  the  glory  of  ancient 
heroes  and  new  martyrs,  the  shame  of  apostates,, 
and  the  crimes  of  the  sacrilegious  stranger. 

In  order  the  better  to  brave  tyranny  in  the  midst 
of  a subdued  and  silent  people,  they  had  recourse 
to  allegory  and  the  elegies  of  love.  Under  the 
figure  of  an  enslaved  queen — or  of  a woman  loved 
with  an  everlasting  love  and  fought  for  with  de- 
spairing faithfulness,  in  face  of  the  jealous  fury  of  a 
stepmother — they  celebrated  again  and  again  the 
Irish  Fatherland,  the  country  in  mourning  and 
tears,  once  queen  and  now  a slave.  The  Irish, 
says  a great  historian  of  our  own  day,  loved  to 
make  of  their  country  a real  being  whom  they 
loved,  and  who  loved  them.  They  loved  to  ad- 
dress her  without  naming  her  name,  and  to  identify 
the  austere  and  perilous  devotion  which  they  had 
vowed  to  her  with  all  that  is  sweetest  and  most 
fortunate  in  the  affections  of  the  heart,  like  those 
Spartans  who  crowned  themselves  with  flowers 
when  about  to  perish  at  Thermopylae. 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  ungrateful  Stuarts,  this 
proscription  of  the  national  poets  was  permanent, 
increasing  in  force  with  every  change  of  reign  and 
every  new  parliament.  The  rage  of  the  Cromwell- 
ian Protestants  carried  them  so  far  as  to  break, 
wherever  they  met  with  them,  the  minstrel’s  harps 
which  were  still  to  be  found  in  the  miserable  cot- 


84  Characteristics  of 

tages  of  the  starving  Irish,  as  they  were  eleven 
centuries  before,  at  the  time  when  the  courageous 
and  charitable  Bridget  saw  them  suspended  on  the 
wall  of  the  king’s  palace.  Nevertheless  the  harp 
has  remained  the  emblem  of  Ireland  even  in  the 
official  arms  of  the  British  Empire ; and  during  all 
last  century  the  travelling  harper,  last  and  pitiful 
successor  of  the  bards  protected  by  Columba,  was 
always  to  be  found  at  the  side  of  the  priest  to  cele- 
brate the  holy  mysteries  of  the  proscribed  worship. 
He  never  ceased  to  be  received  with  tender  respect 
under  the  thatched  roof  of  the  poor  Irish  peasant, 
whom  he  consoled  in  his  misery  and  oppression  by 
the  plaintive  tenderness  and  solemn  sweetness  of 
the  music  of  his  fathers. 

The  continuance  of  these  distinctive  features  of 
Irish  character  through  so  many  centuries  is  so 
striking,  and  the  misfortunes  of  that  noble  race 
touch  us  so  nearly,  that  it  is  difficult  to  resist  the 
temptation  of  leaving  behind  us  those  distant  ages, 
and  of  following  through  later  generations  the  mel- 
ancholy relics  of  all  that  has  been  discovered  or 
admired  in  the  most  ancient  days.  We  may  be 
pardoned  for  adding  that,  if  the  text  of  those  poetic 
and  generously  obstinate  protests  against  the  en- 
slavement of  Ireland  have  perished,  the  life  and 
spirit  of  them  has  survived  in  the  pure  and  pene- 
trating beauty  of  the  ancient  Irish  airs.  Their  har- 
monies and  their  refrains,  which  are  inimitably 
natural,  original,  and  pathetic,  move  the  depths  of 


85 


Celtic  Poetry . 

the  soul,  and  send  a thrill  through  all  the  fibres  of 
human  sensibility.  Thomas  Moore,  in  adapting  to 
them  words  which  are  marked  with  the  impression 
of  a passionate  fidelity  to  the  proscribed  faith  and 
oppressed  country,  has  given  to  the  ‘Irish  Melodies’ 
a popularity  which  was  not  the  least  powerful  among 
those  pleas  which  determined  the  great  contest  of 
Catholic  Emancipation. 

The  genius  of  Celtic  poetry  has,  however,  sur- 
vived not  only  in  Ireland,  in  the  country  of  Co- 
lumba  and  of  Moore,  but  has  found  a refuge  in  the 
glens  of  the  Scottish  Highlands,  among  those  vast 
moors  and  rugged  mountains,  and  beside  the  deep 
and  narrow  lakes,  which  Columba,  bearing  the  light 
of  the  faith  to  the  Caledonian  Piets,  had  so  often  tra- 
versed. In  those  districts  where,  as  in  a great  part 
of  Ireland,  the  Erse  or  Gaelic  language  is  still 
spoken,  the  Celtic  muse,  always  sad  and  always 
attached  to  the  cause  of  the  people,  has  been  found 
in  recent  times,  at  the  most  prosaic  moment  of  mo- 
dem civilisation,  in  the  eighteenth  century  itself, 
inspiring  the  warlike  songs  and  laments  which  the 
Highlanders  have  consecrated  to  the  conquered 
Pretender  and  his  followers  slain.  And  if  we  may 
believe  a competent  and  impartial  judge — Charles 
Mackay,  in  his  Introduction  to  the  ‘Jacobite  Songs 
and  Ballads  of  Scotland  ’ — the  last  effusions  of  the 
soul  of  the  Gaelic  race  surpass,  in  plaintive  beauty 
and  in  passionate  feeling,  even  those  delicious 
Anglo-Scottish  songs  which  no  traveller  can  hear 


86 


The  Jacobite  Relics . 


without  emotion,  and  which  have  assured  the  palm, 
at  least  of  poetry,  to  the  cause  of  the  Stuarts,  which 
has  been  so  sadly  represented  by  its  princes,  and 
so  ill  served  by  events,  but  which  the  popular  and 
national  muse  has  thus  avenged,  even  for  the  irre- 
mediable defeat  of  Culloden. 


87 


CHAPTER  V. 

©olum&a’g  IflUIattong  fottf)  Ireland — ©ontinuet). 

N the  national  parliament  of  Drumceitt 
which  saved  the  bards,  and  where  all  the 
ecclesiastical  chiefs  of  the  Irish  nation, 
along  with  their  princes  and  provincial 
kings,  were  assembled,  Columba,  already  invested 
by  his  apostolical  labours  with  great  power  and 
authority,  found  himself  surrounded  by  public 
homage,  and  tokens  of  universal  confidence.  To 
all  the  kings,  whose  kinsman  and  friend  he  was,  he 
preached  peace,  concord,  the  pardon  of  affronts, 
and  the  recall  of  exiles,  many  of  whom  had  found 
shelter  in  the  island  monastery  which  owed  its  ex- 
istence to  his  own  exile.  Nevertheless,  it  was  not 
without  trouble  that  he  obtained  from  the  supreme 
monarch  the  freedom  of  a young  prince,  named 
Scandlan,  son  of  the  chief  of  Ossory,  whom  Aedh 
detained  in  prison,  in  contempt  of  his  sworn  faith, 
and  of  an  agreement  to  which  Columba  himself 


88  Career  of  King  DomnalL 

had  been  a witness.  The  noble  abbot  went  to  the 
prisoner  in  his  dungeon,  blessed  him,  and  predicted 
to  him  that  he  should  be  twice  exiled,  but  that  he 
should  survive  his  oppressor,  and  reign  for  thirty 
years  in  his  paternal  domain.  The  king  yielded  on 
this  point,  but  with  a bad  grace;  he  feared  the 
influence  of  the  illustrious  exile,  and  had  seen  him 
return  to  Ireland  with  dissatisfaction.  His  eldest 
son  had  publicly  ridiculed  the  monks  of  Iona,  and 
had  thus  drawn  upon  himself  the  curse  of  Columba, 
which  brought  misfortune,  for  he  was  afterwards 
dethroned  and  assassinated.  But  the  king’s  second 
son  Domnall,  who  was  still  young,  took  openly  the 
part  of  the  Abbot  of  Iona,  who  predicted  for  him 
not  only  a long  and  glorious  reign,  but  the  rare 
privilege  of  dying  in  his  bed,  on  the  condition  of 
receiving  the  Holy  Communion  every  eight  days, 
and  of  keeping  at  least  one  in  seven  of  his  promises 
— a somewhat  satirical  limit,  which  betrays  either 
the  old  contradictory  spirit  of  the  converted  Niall, 
or  the  recollection  of  his  own  legitimate  resentment 
against  certain  princes.  His  prophecy,  extremely 
improbable  as  it  was,  in  a country  where  all  the 
princes  perished  on  the  battle-field  or  by  a violent 
death,  was  nevertheless  fulfilled.  Domnall,  who  was 
the  third  successor  of  his  father,  following  after  two 
other  kings  who  were  destroyed  by  their  enemies, 
had  a long  and  prosperous  reign ; he  gained  numer- 
ous victories,  marching  to  battle  under  a banner 
blessed  by  St  Columba,  and  died,  after  an  illness  of 


89 


Fate  of  his  Father . 

eighteen  months,  in  his  bed,  or,  as  Columba  speci- 
fied, with  a precision  which  marks  the  rareness  of 
the  occurrence,  on  his  down-bed.  His  father,  al- 
though reconciled  to  Columba,  did  not  escape  the 
common  law.  The  great  abbot  bestowed  upon 
him  his  monastic  cowl,  promising  that  it  should 
always  be  to  him  as  an  impenetrable  cuirass.  After 
this,  he  never  went  into  battle  without  putting  on 
his  friend’s  cowl  above  his  armour.  But  one  day 
when  he  had  forgotten  it,  he  was  killed  in  a combat 
with  the  king  of  Lagenia  or  Leinster.  Columba 
had  previously  warned  him  against  waging  war  with 
the  people  of  Leinster,  which  was  the  country  of 
his  mother,  and  which  he  loved  with  that  impas- 
sioned clan  or  family  affection  which  is  so  distinc- 
tive a feature  in  his  character.  The  Lagenians  had 
not  lost  the  opportunity  of  working  upon  this  senti- 
ment : for  one  day,  when  he  was  at  his  Abbey  of 
Durrow,  upon  their  boundary,  a numerous  assembly 
of  all  ages,  from  children  to  old  men,  came  to  him, 
and,  surrounding  him,  pleaded  with  such  animation 
their  kindred  with  his  mother,  that  they  obtained 
from  him  the  promise,  or  prophecy,  that  no  king 
should  ever  be  able  to  overcome  them,  so  long  as 
they  fought  for  a just  cause. 

There  is  no  doubt  that,  after  the  assembly  of 
Drumceitt,  Columba  made  many  journeys  to  Ire- 
land. The  direction  of  the  various  monasteries 
which  he  had  founded  there  before  his  voluntary 
exile,  and  of  which  he  had  kept  the  government  in 


90 


Work  in  Ireland . 


his  own  hands,  must  have  led  him  often  back ; but 
after  that  assembly,  his  visits  were  always  made 
notable  by  miracles  of  healing,  prophecy,  or  revela- 
tion, and  still  more  by  the  tender  solicitude  of  his 
paternal  heart.  Sometimes,  towards  the  decline  of 
his  life,  while  traversing  a hilly  or  marshy  country, 
he  travelled  in  a car,  as  St  Patrick  had  done ; but 
the  care  with  which  his  biographers  note  this  fact, 
proves  that  formerly  the  greater  part  of  his  journeys 
had  been  made  on  foot.  He  did  not  limit  himself 
to  communities  of  which  he  was  the  superior  or 
founder;  he  loved  to  visit  other  monastic  sanctu- 
aries also,  such  as  that  of  Clonmacnoise,  the  im- 
portance of  which  has  already  been  pointed  out. 
And  on  such  occasions  the  crowding  and  eagerness 
of  the  monks  to  pay  their  homage  to  the  holy  and 
beloved  old  man  was  redoubled ; they  left  their  out- 
door work,  and,  crossing  the  earthen  intrenchment, 
which,  like  the  vallum  of  Roman  camps,  enclosed 
the  Celtic  monasteries,  came  to  meet  him,  chanting 
hymns.  When  they  came  up  to  him,  they  prostrated 
themselves  on  the  ground  at  his  feet,  ere  they  em- 
braced him ; and  in  order  to  shelter  him  from  the 
crowd  during  the  solemn  processions  which  were 
made  in  his  honour,  a rampart  of  branches  was 
carried  like  a dais  by  four  men,  who  surrounded 
him,  treading  with  equal  steps.  An  ancient  author 
even  goes  so  far  as  to  say,  that  on  the  occasion  of 
his  return  and  prolonged  stay  in  his  native  country, 
he  was  invested  with  a sort  of  general  supremacy 


St  Ernan.  9 1 

over  all  the  religious  of  Ireland,  both  monks  and 
nuns. 

During  the  journey  from  Durrow  to  Clonmac- 
noise,  Columba  made  a halt  at  one  of  his  own 
monasteries,  where  a poor  little  scholar,  “ of  thick 
speech,  and  still  more  heavy  aspect,”  whom  his 
superiors  employed  in  the  meanest  services,  glided 
into  the  crowd,  and,  stealthily  approaching  the  great 
abbot,  touched  the  end  of  his  robe  behind  him,  as 
the  Canaanitish  woman  touched  the  robe  of  our 
Lord.  Columba,  perceiving  it,  stopped,  turned 
round,  and,  taking  the  child  by  the  neck,  kissed 
him.  “ Away,  away,  little  fool  1”  cried  all  the  spec- 
tators. “ Patience,  my  brethren,”  said  Columba  : 
then  turning  to  the  boy,  who  trembled  with  fear, 
“My  son,”  he  said,  “open  thy  mouth,  and  show 
me  thy  tongue.”  The  child  obeyed,  with  increasing 
timidity.  The  abbot  made  the  sign  of  the  cross 
upon  his  tongue,  and  added,  “This  child,  who 
appears  to  you  so  contemptible,  let  no  one  hence- 
forward despise  him.  He  shall  grow  every  day  in 
wisdom  and  virtue ; he  shall  be  reckoned  with  the 
greatest  among  you ; God  will  give  to  this  tongue, 
which  I have  just  blessed,  the  gift  of  eloquence  and 
true  doctrine.”  The  boy  grew  to  manhood,  and 
became  celebrated  in  the  churches  of  Scotland  and 
Ireland,  where  he  was  venerated  under  the  name  of 
St  Ernan.  He  himself  told  this  prophecy,  so  well 
justified  by  the  event,  to  a contemporary  of  Adam- 
nan,  who  has  preserved  all  the  details  for  us. 


92 


Personal  Anecdotes. 


These  journeys,  however,  were  not  necessary  to 
prove  Columba’s  solicitude  for  the  monks  who  filled 
his  monasteries.  He  showed  the  same  care  when 
distant  as  when  at  hand,  by  the  help  of  that  mira- 
culous foresight  which  came  to  the  assistance  of 
his  paternal  anxiety  in  all  their  spiritual  and  tem- 
poral necessities.  One  day,  after  his  return  from 
Ireland,  he  was  heard  to  stop  suddenly  short  in  the 
correspondence  or  transcription  in  which  he  had 
been  engaged  in  his  little  cell  in  Iona,  and  cry 
with  all  his  strength,  “ Help,  help  !”  This  cry  was 
addressed  to  the  guardian  angel  of  the  community, 
and  the  appeal  was  made  on  behalf  of  a man  who 
had  fallen  from  the  top  of  the  round  tower  which 
was  then  being  built  at  Durrow,  in  the  centre  of 
Ireland — so  great  was  his  confidence  in  what  he 
himself  called  the  indescribable  and  lightning  speed 
of  the  flight  of  angels ; and  greater  still  was  his 
trust  in  their  protection.  Another  time,  at  Iona,  in 
a day  of  chilly  fog,  such  as  occurs  often  in  that 
sombre  climate,  he  was  suddenly  seen  to  burst  into 
tears.  When  asked  the  reason  of  his  distress,  he 
answered,  “ Dear  son,  it  is  not  without  reason  that 
I weep.  At  this  very  hour  I see  my  dear  monks 
of  Durrow  condemned  by  their  abbot  to  exhaust 
themselves  in  this  dreary  weather  building  the  great 
round  tower  of  the  monastery,  and  the  sight  over- 
whelms me.”  The  same  day,  and  at  the  same 
hour,  as  was  afterwards  ascertained,  Laisran,  the 
abbot  of  Durrow,  felt  within  himself  something  like 


Authority  exercised  by  the  Saint . 93 

an  internal  flame,  which  reawakened  in  his  heart 
a sentiment  of  pity  for  his  monks.  He  immediately 
commanded  them  to  leave  their  work,  to  warm 
themselves,  and  take  some  food,  and  even  forbade 
them  to  resume  their  building  until  the  weather 
had  improved.  This  same  Laisran  afterwards  came 
to  deserve  the  name  of  Consoler  of  the  Monks,  so 
much  had  he  been  imbued  by  Columba  with  that 
supernatural  charity  which,  in  monastic  life,  as  in 
every  other  Christian  existence,  is  at  once  a light 
and  a flame,  ardens  et  lucens. 

Columba  not  only  retained  his  superior  jurisdic- 
tion over  the  monasteries  which  he  had  founded  in 
Ireland,  or  which  had  been  admitted  to  the  privi- 
leges of  his  foundations,  but  he  also  exercised  a 
spiritual  authority,  which  it  is  difficult  to  explain, 
over  various  laymen  of  his  native  island.  On  one 
occasion,  he  is  known  to  have  sent  his  cousin, 
friend,  and  principal  disciple  to  the  centre  of  Ire- 
land, to  Drum-Cuill,  to  pronounce  sentence  of 
excommunication  against  a certain  family,  whose 
crime,  however,  is  not  specified.  This  disciple  was 
Baithen,  whom  we  have  seen  to  be  one  of  Colum- 
ba’s  companions  from  the  moment  of  his  exile,  and 
who  warned  his  superior  against  the  fumes  of  pride, 
at  the  time  when  the  bards  began  to  express  their 
enthusiastic  gratitude.  The  gentle  Baithen,  when 
he  had  arrived  at  the  appointed  place,  after  having 
passed  the  whole  night  in  prayer  under  an  oak, 
said  to  his  companions,  “ No,  I will  not  excommu- 


94 


His  Companion  Baithen. 


nicate  this  family  before  making  sure  that  it  will 
not  repent.  I give  it  a year’s  respite,  and  during 
the  year,  the  fate  of  this  tree  shall  be  a warning  to 
it.”  Some  time  after  the  tree  was  struck  by  light- 
ning; but  we  are  not  informed  if  the  family  thus 
warned  was  brought  to  repentance. 

Baithen  was  a man  of  tender  soul,  of  whom  we 
would  fain  speak  at  greater  length,  if  it  were  not 
needful  to  circumscribe  the  wide  and  confused  re- 
cords of  Celtic  hagiography.  Columba  compared 
him  to  St  J ohn  the  Evangelist ; he  said  that  his 
beloved  disciple  resembled  him  who  was  the  beloved 
disciple  of  Christ,  by  his  exquisite  purity,  his  pene- 
trating simplicity,  and  his  love  of  perfection.  And 
Columba  was  not  alone  in  doing  justice  to  the  man 
who,  after  having  been  his  chief  lieutenant  in  his 
work,  was  to  become  his  first  successor.  One  day, 
in  an  assembly  of  learned  monks,  probably  held  in 
Ireland,  Fintan,  a very  learned  and  very  wise  man, 
and  also  one  of  the  twelve  companions  of  Columba’s 
exile,  was  questioned  upon  the  qualities  of  Baithen. 
“ Know,”  he  answered,  “ that  there  is  no  one  on 
this  side  of  the  Alps  who  is  equal  to  him  in  know- 
ledge of  the  Scriptures,  and  in  the  greatness  of  his 
learning.”  “ What  ! ” said  his  questioners — “ not 
even  his  master,  Columba?”  “I  do  not  compare 
the  disciple  with  the  master,”  answered  Fintan. 
“ Columba  is  not  to  be  compared  with  philo- 
sophers and  learned  men,  but  with  patriarchs, 
prophets,  and  apostles.  The  Holy  Ghost  reigns  in 


95 


Character  of  him. 

him  ; he  has  been  chosen  by  God  for  the  good  of 
all.  He  is  a sage  among  all  sages,  a king  among 
kings,  an  anchorite  with  anchorites,  a monk  of 
monks ; and  in  order  to  bring  himself  to  the  level 
even  of  laymen,  he  knows  how  to  be  poor  of  heart 
among  the  poor;  thanks  to  the  apostolic  charity 
which  inspires  him,  he  can  rejoice  with  the  joyful, 
and  weep  with  the  unfortunate.  And  amid  all  the 
gifts  which  God’s  generosity  has  lavished  on  him, 
the  true  humility  of  Christ  is  so  royally  rooted  in 
his  soul,  that  it  seems  to  have  been  born  with  him.” 
It  is  added  that  all  the  learned  hearers  assented 
unanimously  to  this  enthusiastic  eulogium. 


96 


CHAPTER  VI. 

©olumtm  tfje  protector  of  jailors  anti  &griculturisstss, 
tf)e  ifrienti  of  Sagmen,  ant)  tfjc  &benger  of  tl)c 
<®ppreg$eD. 

URING  all  the  rest  of  his  life,  which  was 
to  pass  in  his  island  of  Iona,  or  in  the 
neighbouring  districts  of  Scotland  which 
had  been  evangelised  by  his  unwearied 
zeal,  nothing  strikes  and  attracts  the  historian 
so  much  as  the  generous  ardour  of  Columba’s 
charity.  The  history  of  his  whole  life  proves 
that  he  was  born  with  a violent  and  even  vindic- 
tive temper;  but  he  had  succeeded  in  subduing 
and  transforming  himself  to  such  a point  that  he 
was  ready  to  sacrifice  all  things  to  the  love  of  his 
neighbour.  It  is  not  merely  an  apostle  or  a monas- 
tic founder  whom  we  have  before  us — beyond  and 
besides  this  it  is  a friend,  a brother,  a benefactor  of 
men,  a brave  and  untiring  defender  of  the  labourer, 
the  feeble,  and  the  poor : it  is  a man  occupied  not 


i 


97 


Labours  of  the  Monks . 

only  with  the  salvation  but  also  with  the  happiness, 
the  rights,  and  the  interests  of  all  his  fellow-crea- 
tures, and  in  whom  the  instinct  of  pity  showed 
itself  in  a bold  and  continual  interposition  against 
all  oppression  and  wickedness. 

Without  losing  the  imposing  and  solemn  char- 
acter which  always  accompanied  his  popular  fame, 
he  will  now  be  revealed  to  us  under  a still  more 
touching  aspect,  through  all  the  long  succession  of 
his  apostolic  labours,  and  in  the  two  principal 
occupations  — agriculture  and  navigation— which 
gave  variety  to  his  missionary  life. 

For  navigation  alternated  with  agriculture  in  the 
labours  of  the  cenobites  of  Iona.  The  same  monks 
who  cultivated  the  scanty  fields  of  the  holy  island, 
and  who  reaped  and  thrashed  the  corn,  accom- 
panied Columba  in  his  voyages  to  the  neighbouring 
isles,  and  followed  the  sailor’s  trade,  then,  it  would 
seem,  more  general  than  now  among  the  Irish  race. 
Communication  was  then  frequent,  not  only  be- 
tween Ireland  and  Great  Britain,  but  between 
Ireland  and  Gaul.  We  have  already  seen  in  the 
port  of  Nantes  an  Irish  boat  ready  to  carry  away 
the  founder  of  Luxeuil.  The  Gaulish  merchants 
came  to  sell  or  offer  their  wines  as  far  as  to  the 
centre  of  the  island,  to  the  Abbey  of  Clonmacnoise. 
In  the  life  of  our  saint,  seafaring  populations  are 
constantly  spoken  of  as  surrounding  him,  and 
receiving  his  continual  visits;  and  exercises  and 
excursions  are  also  mentioned,  which  associate  his 


G 


98  Boats  of  the  Period. 

disciples  with  all  the  incidents  of  a seafaring  life. 
As  a proof  of  this  we  quote  four  lines,  in  very  an- 
cient Irish,  which  may  be  thus  translated  : 

u Honour  to  the  soldiers  who  live  at  Iona  ; 

There  are  three  times  fifty  under  the  monastic  rule, 
Seventy  of  whom  are  appointed  to  row, 

And  cross  the  sea  in  their  leathern  barks.” 

These  boats  were  sometimes  hollowed  out  of  the 
trunks  of  trees,  like  those  which  are  still  found 
buried  in  the  bogs  or  turf-mosses  of  Ireland ; but 
most  generally  they  were  made  of  osier,  and  covered 
with  buffalo-skins,  like  those  described  by  Caesar. 
Their  size  was  estimated  by  the  number  of  skins 
which  had  been  used  to  cover  them.  They  were 
generally  small,  and  those  made  of  one  or  two  skins 
were  portable.  The  abbot  of  Iona  had  one  of  this 
description  for  the  inland  waters  when  he  travelled 
beyond  the  northern  hills  (dorsum  Britannia), 
which  he  crossed  so  often  to  preach  among  the 
Piets.  At  a later  period  the  community  possessed 
many  of  a much  larger  size,  to  convey  the  materials 
for  the  reconstruction  of  the  primitive  monastery  at 
Iona,  and  the  timber  which  the  sons  of  Columba 
cut  down  and  fashioned  in  the  vast  oak  forests 
which  then  covered  the  whole  country,  now  so  sadly 
deprived  of  wood.  They  went  like  galleys,  with 
sail  or  oar,  and  were  furnished  with  masts  and  rig- 
ging like  modern  boats.  The  holy  island  had  at 
last  an  entire  fleet  at  its  disposal,  manned  and 
navigated  by  the  monks. 


Daring  Navigators.  99 

In  these  frail  skiffs  Columba  and  his  monks 
ploughed  the  dangerous  and  stormy  sea  which 
dashes  on  the  coasts  of  Scotland  and  Ireland,  and 
penetrated  boldly  into  the  numberless  gulfs  and 
straits  of  the  sombre  Hebridean  archipelago.  They 
knew  the  perils  to  which  their  insular  existence 
exposed  them ; but  they  braved  those  dangers 
without  fear,  accustomed  as  they  were  to  live  in 
the  midst  of  storms,  upon  an  isle  which  the  great 
waves  of  ocean  threatened  continually  to  swallow 
up.  Not  less  alarming  was  their  position  when  the 
winds  carried  them  towards  the  terrible  whirlpool, 
named,  after  a prince  of  the  Niall  family  who  had 
been  drowned  there,  the  Caldron  of  Brechan,  and 
which  there  was  always  a risk  of  being  driven  upon 
while  crossing  from  Ireland  to  Scotland.  The 
winds,  when  blowing  from  certain  directions,  hollow 
out  in  their  whirl  such  terrible  abysses  about  this 
spot,  that  even  to  our  own  time  it  has  continued 
the  terror  of  sailors.  The  holiest  of  Columba’s 
guests  passed  it  by  with  trembling,  raising  their 
hands  towards  heaven  to  implore  the  miracle 
which  alone  could  save  them.  But  he  himself, 
who  one  day  was  almost  swallowed  up  in  it,  and 
whose  mind  was  continually  preoccupied  by  the 
recollection  of  his  kindred,  imagined  that  he  saw 
in  this  whirlpool  a symbol  of  the  torments  en- 
dured in  purgatory  by  the  soul  of  his  relative  who 
had  perished  at  that  spot,  and  of  the  duty  of  pray- 
ing for  the  repose  of  that  soul  at  the  same  time 


ioo  Dangevs  of  the  Sects. 

as  he  prayed  for  the  safety  of  the  companions  of 
his  voyage. 

Columba’s  prayers,  his  special  and  ardently  de- 
sired blessing,  and  his  constant  and  passionate  in- 
tercession for  his  brethren  and  disciples,  were  the 
grand  safeguard  of  the  navigators  of  Iona,  not  only 
against  wind  and  shipwrecks,  but  against  other 
dangers  which  have  now  disappeared  from  these 
coasts.  Great  fishes  of  the  cetaceous  order  swarmed 
at  that  time  in  the  Hebridean  sea.  The  sharks 
ascended  even  into  the  Highland  rivers,  and  one  of 
the  companions  of  Columba,  swimming  across  the 
Ness,  was  saved  only  by  the  prayer  of  the  saint,  at 
the  moment  when  he  was  but  an  oar’s-length  from 
the  odious  monster,  which  had  before  swallowed  one 
of  the  natives.  The  entire  crew  of  a boat  manned 
by  monks  took  fright  and  turned  back  one  day  on 
meeting  a whale,  or  perhaps  only  a shark  more 
formidable  than  its  neighbours  ; but  on  another 
occasion,  the  same  Baithen  who  was  the  friend  and 
successor  of  Columba,  encouraged  by  the  holy 
abbot’s  blessing,  had  more  courage,  continued  his 
course,  and  saw  the  monster  bury  itself  in  the 
waves.  “ After  all,”  said  the  monk,  “ we  are  both 
in  the  hands  of  God,  both  this  monster  and  I. 
Other  monks,  sailing  in  the  high  northern  sea,  were 
panic-struck  by  the  appearance  of  hosts  of  unknown 
shellfish,  who,  attaching  themselves  to  the  oars  and 
sides  of  the  boat,  made  holes  in  the  hide  with  which 
the  framework  was  covered. 


IOl 


Objects  of  the  Voyagers . 

It  was  neither  curiosity  nor  love  of  gain,  nor  even 
a desire  to  convert  the  pagans,  which  stimulated 
Columba’s  disciples  to  dare  all  the  dangers  of  navi- 
gation in  one  of  the  most  perilous  seas  of  the 
world ; it  was  the  longing  for  solitude,  the  irresist- 
ible wish  to  find  a more  distant  retreat,  an  asylum 
still  further  off  than  that  of  Iona,  upon  some  un- 
known rock  amid  the  loneliness  of  the  sea,  where 
no  one  could  join  them,  and  from  which  they  never 
could  be  brought  back.  They  returned  to  Iona 
without  having  discovered  what  they  were  in  search 
of,  sad  yet  not  discouraged ; and  after  an  interval 
of  rest  always  took  to  sea  again,  to  begin  once 
more  their  anxious  search.  It  was  thus  that  the 
steep  and  almost  inaccessible  island  of  St  Kilda, 
made  famous  by  the  daring  of  its  bird-hunters,  was 
first  discovered ; then  far  to  the  north  of  the 
Hebrides  and  even  of  the  Orcades,  they  reached 
the  Shetland  Isles,  and  even,  according  to  some, 
Iceland  itself,  which  is  only  at  the  distance  of  a 
six  days’  voyage  from  Ireland,  and  where  the  first 
Christian  church  bore  the  name  of  St  Columba. 
Another  of  their  discoveries  was  the  Faroe  Islands, 
where  the  Norwegians  at  a later  date  found  traces 
of  the  sojourn  of  the  Irish  monks,  Celtic  books, 
crosses,  and  bells.  Cormac,  the  boldest  of  these 
bold  explorers,  made  three  long,  laborious,  and 
dangerous  voyages  with  the  hope,  always  dis- 
appointed, of  finding  the  wilderness  of  which  he 
dreamed.  The  first  time  on  landing  at  Orkney  he 


102  The  Prayers  of  the  Saint . 

escaped  death,  with  which  the  savage  inhabitants 
of  that  archipelago  threatened  all  strangers,  only  by 
means  of  the  recommendations  which  Columba  had 
procured  from  the  Pictish  king,  himself  converted, 
to  the  still  pagan  king  of  the  northern  islanders. 
On  another  occasion  the  south  wind  drove  him  for 
fourteen  successive  days  and  nights  almost  into  the 
depths  of  the  icy  ocean,  far  beyond  anything  that 
the  imagination  of  man  had  dreamed  of  in  those 
days. 

Columba,  the  father  and  head  of  those  bold  and 
pious  mariners,  followed  and  guided  them  by  his 
ever  vigilant  and  prevailing  prayers.  He  was  in 
some  respects  present  with  them,  notwithstanding 
the  distance  which  separated  them  from  the  sanc- 
tuary and  from  the  island  harbours  which  they  had 
left.  Prayer  gave  him  an  intuitive  knowledge  of 
the  dangers  they  ran.  He  saw  them,  he  suffered 
and  trembled  for  them ; and  immediately  assem- 
bling the  brethren  who  remained  in  the  monastery 
by  the  sound  of  the  bell,  offered  for  them  the 
prayers  of  the  community.  He  implored  the  Lord 
with  tears  to  grant  the  change  of  wind  which  was 
necessary  for  those  at  sea,  and  did  not  rise  from 
his  knees  until  he  had  a certainty  that  his  prayers 
were  granted.  This  happened  often,  and  the  saved 
monks,  on  returning  from  their  dangerous  voyages, 
hastened  to  him  to  thank  and  bless  him  for  his  pro- 
phetic and  beneficent  aid. 

Often  he  himself  accompanied  them  in  their  voy- 


103 


His  own  Voyages. 

ages  of  circumnavigation  or  exploration,  and  paid 
many  visits  to  the  isles  of  the  Hebridean  archipel- 
ago discovered  or  frequented  by  the  sailors  of  his 
community,  and  where  cells  or  little  colonies  from 
the  great  island  monastery  seem  to  have  existed. 
This  was  specially  the  case  at  Eigg,  where  a colony 
of  fifty-two  monks,  founded  and  ruled  by  a disciple 
of  the  abbot  of  Iona,  were  killed  by  pirates  twenty 
years  after  his  death.  This  was  a favourite  spot 
which  he  loved  to  visit,  no  doubt  to  enjoy  the  soli- 
tude which  was  no  longer  to  be  found  at  Iona, 
where  the  crowds  of  penitents,  pilgrims,  and  peti- 
tioners increased  from  day  to  day.  And  he  took 
special  pleasure  also  in  Skye,  the  largest  of  the 
Hebridean  isles,  which,  after  the  lapse  of  twelve 
centuries,  was  recalled  to  the  attention  of  the  world 
by  the  dangerous  and  romantic  adventures  of 
Prince  Charles-Edward  and  Flora  Macdonald.  It 
was  then  scarcely  inhabited,  though  very  large  and 
covered  by  forests,  in  which  he  could  bury  himself 
and  pray,  leaving  even  his  brethren  far  behind  him. 
One  day  he  met  an  immense  wild  boar  pursued  by 
dogs ; with  a single  word  he  killed  the  ferocious 
brute,  instead  of  protecting  it,  as  in  similar  cases 
the  saints  of  the  Merovingian  legends  were  so  ready 
to  do.  He  continued  during  all  the  middle  ages 
the  patron  of  Skye,  where  a little  lake  still  bears 
his  name,  as  well  as  several  spots  and  monuments 
in  the  neighbouring  isles. 

Storms  often  disturbed  these  excursions  by  sea, 


104  Legends. 

and  then  Columba  showed  himself  as  laborious  and 
bold  as  the  most  tried  of  his  monastic  mariners. 
When  all  were  engaged  in  rowing,  he  would  not 
remain  idle,  but  rowed  with  them.  We  have  seen 
him  brave  the  frequent  storms  of  the  narrow  and 
dangerous  lakes  in  the  north  of  Scotland.  At  sea 
he  retained  the  same  courageous  composure  in  the 
most  tempestuous  weather,  and  took  part  in  all  the 
sailors’  toils.  During  the  voyage  which  he  made 
from  Iona  to  Ireland,  to  attend  with  King  A'idan 
the  parliament  of  Drumceitt,  his  vessel  was  in  great 
danger ; the  waves  dashed  into  the  boat  till  it  was 
full  of  water,  and  Columba  took  his  part  with  the 
sailors  in  baling  it  out.  But  his  companions  stop- 
ped him.  “ What  you  are  doing  at  present  is  of 
little  service  to  us,”  they  said  to  him;  “you  would 
do  better  to  pray  for  those  who  are  about  to 
perish.”  He  did  so,  and  the  sea  grew  calm  from 
the  moment  when,  mounting  on  the  prow,  he  raised 
his  arms  in  prayer. 

With  these  examples  before  them,  his  com- 
panions naturally  appealed  to  his  intercession 
whenever  storms  arose  during  any  of  his  voyages. 
On  one  occasion  he  answered  them,  “ It  is  not 
my  turn ; it  is  the  holy  abbot  Kenneth  who  must 
pray  for  us.”  Kenneth  was  the  abbot  of  a mon- 
astery in  Ireland,  and  a friend  of  Columba’s  who 
came  often  to  Iona  to  visit  him.  At  the  very 
same  hour  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  friend  echo 
in  his  heart,  and,  warned  by  an  internal  voice,  left 


Lessons  from  these . 105 

the  refectory  where  he  was,  and  hastened  to  the 
church  to  pray  for  the  shipwrecked,  crying,  “ We 
have  something  else  to  do  than  to  dine  when  Co- 
lumba  is  in  danger  of  perishing  at  sea.”  He  did 
not  even  take  the  time  to  put  on  both  his  shoes 
before  he  went  to  the  church,  for  which  he  received 
the  special  thanks  of  his  friend  at  Iona ; an  inci- 
dent which  recalls  another  Celtic  legend— that  of 
the  bishop  St  Paternus,  who  obeyed  the  call  of  his 
metropolitan  with  a boot  upon  one  foot  only. 

Under  all  these  legendary  digressions  it  is  evi- 
dent that  the  monastic  apostle  of  Caledonia,  apart 
from  the  prevailing  efficacy  of  his  prayers,  had 
made  an  attentive  study  of  the  winds  and  of  all 
the  phenomena  of  nature  which  affected  the  lives 
of  the  insular  and  maritime  people  whom  he  sought 
to  lead  into  Christianity.  A hundred  different 
narratives  represent  him  to  us  as  the  Eolus  of  those 
fabulous  times  and  dangerous  seas.  He  was  con- 
tinually entreated  to  grant  a favourable  wind  for 
such  or  such  an  expedition ; it  even  happened  one 
day  that  two  of  his  monks,  on  the  eve  of  setting 
out  in  two  different  directions,  came  to  him  to  ask, 
the  one  a north  wind,  and  the  other  a south  wind. 
He  granted  the  prayer  of  both,  but  by  delaying  the 
departure  of  the  one  who  was  going  to  Ireland 
until  after  the  arrival  of  the  other,  who  went  only 
to  the  neighbouring  isle  of  Tiree. 

Thus  it  happened  that  from  far  and  near  Co- 
lumba  was  invoked  or  feared  by  the  sailors  as  the 


106  Legend  of  Libran . 

master  of  all  the  winds  that  blew.  Libran  of  the 
Rushes,  the  generous  penitent  whose  curious  his- 
tory has  been  already  recorded,  wishing  to  return 
from  Ireland  to  Iona,  was  turned  back  by  the  crew 
of  the  boat  which  was  leaving  the  port  of  Derry 
for  Scotland,  because  he  was  not  a member  of  the 
community  of  Iona.  Upon  which  the  disappoint- 
ed traveller  mentally  invoked  across  the  sea  the 
help  of  his  absent  friend.  The  wind  immediately 
changed,  and  the  boat  was  driven  back  to  land. 
The  sailors  saw  poor  Libran  still  lingering  upon 
the  shore,  and  called  to  him  from  the  deck,  “ Per- 
haps it  is  because  of  thee  that  the  wind  has 
changed;  if  we  take  thee  with  us,  art  thou  dis- 
posed to  make  it  once  more  favourable?”  “ Yes,” 
said  the  monk ; “ the  holy  abbot  Columba,  who 
imposed  upon  me  seven  years  of  penitence,  whom 
I have  obeyed,  and  to  whom  I wish  to  return,  will 
obtain  that  grace  for  you.”  And  the  result  was 
that  he  was  taken  on  board,  and  the  journey  was 
happily  accomplished. 

These  events  took  place  in  his  lifetime ; but  dur- 
ing at  least  a century  after  his  death  he  remained 
the  patron,  always  popular  and  propitious,  of  sailors 
in  danger.  A tone  of  familiar  confidence,  and 
sometimes  of  filial  objurgation,  may  be  remarked 
in  their  prayers,  such  as  may  be  found  among  the 
Celts  of  Armorica  and  the  Catholic  nations  of  the 
south  of  Europe.  Adamnan  confesses  that  he  him- 
self and  some  other  monks  of  Iona,  embarked  in  a 


Anecdotes  from  Adamnan.  107 

flotilla  of  a dozen  boats  charged  with  oaken  beams 
for  the  reconstruction  of  the  monastery,  were  so 
detained  by  contrary  winds  in  a neighbouring 
island,  that  they  took  to  accusing  their  Golumba. 
“Dear  saint,”  they  said  to  him,  “what  dost  thou 
think  of  this  delay?  We  thought  up  to  this  moment 
that  thou  hadst  great  favour  with  God.”  Another 
time,  when  they  were  detained  by  the  same  cause 
in  a bay  near  the  district  of  Lorn,  precisely  on  the 
vigil  of  St  Columba’s  day,  they  said  to  him,  “ How 
canst  thou  leave  us  to  pass  thy  feast  to-morrow 
among  laymen,  and  not  in  thine  own  church  ? It 
would  be  so  easy  for  thee  to  obtain  from  the  Lord 
that  this  contrary  wind  should  become  favourable, 
and  permit  us  to  sing  mass  in  thy  church !”  On 
these  two  occasions  their  desires  were  granted ; the 
wind  changed  suddenly,  and  permitted  them  to  get 
to  sea  and  make  their  way  to  Iona  in  those  frail 
boats  whose  spars,  crossing  upon  the  mast,  formed 
the  august  symbol  of  redemption.  More  than  a 
hundred  witnesses  of  these  facts  were  still  living 
when  the  biographer  of  our  saint  wrote  his  history. 

This  tender  and  vigilant  charity,  which  lent  it- 
self to  all  the  incidents  of  a sailor’s  and  traveller’s 
life,  becomes  still  more  strongly  apparent  during  all 
the  phases  of  his  existence,  in  his  relations  with  the 
agricultural  population,  whether  of  Ireland,  which 
was  his  cradle,  or  of  his  adopted  country  Caledo- 
nia. Amid  the  fabulous  legends  and  apocryphal 
and  childish  miracles  with  which  Irish  historians 


io8 


The  Saint  as  the 


have  filled  out  the  glorious  story  of  the  great  mis- 
sionary, it  is  pleasant  to  be  able  to  discover  the 
unmistakable  evidence  of  his  intelligent  and  fruitful 
solicitude  for  the  necessities,  the  labours,  and  the 
sufferings  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  rural  districts, 
and  his  active  intervention  on  their  behalf.  When 
the  legend  tells  us  how,  with  one  stroke  of  his 
crosier,  he  made  fountains  of  sweet  waters  spring 
in  a hundred  different  corners  of  Ireland  or  Scot- 
land, in  arid  and  rocky  districts,  such  as  that  of 
the  peninsula  of  Ardnamurchan ; when  it  shows 
him  lowering,  by  his  prayers,  the  cataracts  of  a 
river  so  that  the  salmon  could  ascend  in  the  fishing 
season,  as  they  have  always  done  since,  to  the 
great  benefit  of  the  dwellers  by  the  stream,  we 
recognise  in  the  tale  the  most  touching  expression 
of  popular  and  national  gratitude  for  the  services 
which  the  great  monk  rendered  to  the  country,  by 
teaching  the  peasants  to  search  for  the  fountains, 
to  regulate  the  irrigations,  and  to  rectify  the  course 
of  the  rivers,  as  so  many  other  holy  monks  have 
done  in  all  European  lands. 

It  is  equally  apparent  that  he  had  with  zeal  and 
success  established  the  system  of  grafting  and  the 
culture  of  fruit-trees,  when  we  read  the  legend 
which  represents  him  to  us,  at  the  beginning  of  his 
monastic  career  in  Durrow,  the  most  ancient  of  his 
foundations,  approaching,  in  autumn,  a tree  covered 
with  sour  and  unwholesome  fruit,  to  bless  it,  and 
saying,  “ In  the  name  of  Almighty  God,  let  thy 


Patron  of  Agriculture.  109 

bitterness  leave  thee,  O bitter  tree,  and  let  thy 
apples  be  henceforward  as  sweet  as  up  to  this  time 
they  have  been  sour !”  At  other  times  he  is  said 
to  have  obtained  for  his  friends  quick  and  abun- 
dant harvests,  enabling  them,  for  example,  to  cut 
barley  in  August  which  they  had  sown  in  June— a 
thing  which  then  seemed  a miracle,  but  is  not  with- 
out parallel  in  Scotland  at  the  present  time.  Thus 
almost  invariably  the  recollection  of  a service  ren- 
dered, or  of  a benefit  asked  or  spontaneously  con- 
ferred, weds  itself  in  the  legend  to  the  story  of 
miracles  and  outbursts  of  wonder-working  prayer — 
which,  in  most  cases,  were  for  the  benefit  of  the 
cultivators  of  the  soil : it  is  evident  that  he  studied 
their  necessities  and  followed  their  vicissitudes  with 
untiring  sympathy. 

In  the  same  spirit  he  studied  and  sought  reme- 
dies for  the  infectious  diseases  which  threatened 
life,  or  which  made  ravages  among  the  cattle  of  the 
country.  Seated  one  day  upon  a hillock  in  his 
island,  he  said  to  the  monk  who  was  with  him,  and 
who  belonged  to  the  Dalriadian  colony,  “ Look  at 
that  thick  and  rainy  cloud  which  comes  from  the 
north ; it  has  within  it  the  germs  of  a deadly  sick- 
ness ; it  is  about  to  fall  upon  a large  district  of  our 
Ireland,  bringing  ulcers  and  sores  upon  the  body 
of  man  and  beast.  We  must  have  pity  on  our 
brethren.  Quick,  let  us  go  down,  and  to-morrow 
thou  shalt  embark  and  go  to  their  aid.”  The  monk 
obeyed,  and,  furnished  with  bread  which  Columba 


no  Legendary  Miracles . 

had  blessed,  he  went  over  all  the  district  smitten 
by  the  pestilence,  distributing  to  the  first  sick  per- 
sons he  met,  water,  in  which  the  bread  blessed  by 
the  exiled  abbot,  who  concerned  himself  so  anxi- 
ously about  the  lot  of  his  countrymen,  had  been 
steeped.  The  remedy  worked  so  well,  that  from 
all  parts  both  men  and  beasts  crowded  round  the 
messenger  of  Iona,  and  the  praises  of  Christ  and 
His  servant  Columba  resounded  far  and  wide. 

Thus  we  see  the  saint  continually  on  the  watch 
for  those  evils,  losses,  and  accidents  which  struck 
the  families  or  nations  specially  interesting  to 
him,  and  which  were  revealed  to  him  either  by  a 
supernatural  intuition  or  by  some  plaintive  appeal. 
Sometimes  we  find  him  sending  the  blessed  bread, 
which  was  his  favourite  remedy,  to  a holy  girl  who 
had  broken  her  leg  in  returning  from  mass ; some- 
times curing  others  of  ophthalmia  by  means  of  salt 
also  blessed;  everywhere  on  his  evangelical  jour- 
neys, or  other  expeditions,  we  are  witnesses  of  his 
desire,  and  the  pains  he  took,  to  heal  all  the  sick 
that  were  brought  to  him,  or  who  awaited  him  on 
the  roadside,  eager,  like  the  little  idiot  of  Clonmac- 
noise,  to  touch  the  border  of  his  robe — an  accom- 
paniment which  had  followed  him  during  the  whole 
course  of  his  journey  to  the  national  assembly  of 
Drumceitt. 

His  entire  life  bears  the  mark  of  his  ardent  sym- 
pathy for  the  labourers  in  the  fields.  From  the 
time  of  his  early  travels  as  a young  man  in  Ireland, 


Agricultural  Labours . 1 1 1 

when  he  furnished  the  ploughmen  with  ploughshares, 
and  had  the  young  men  trained  to  the  trade  of  black- 
smith, up  to  the  days  of  his  old  age,  when  he  could 
only  follow  far  off  the  labour  of  his  monks,  his  pa- 
ternal tenderness  never  ceased  to  exercise  on  their 
account  its  salutary  and  beneficent  influence.  Seated 
in  the  little  wooden  hut  which  answered  the  purpose 
of  a cell,  he  interrupted  his  studies,  and  put  down 
his  pen,  to  bless  the  monks  as  they  came  back  from 
the  fields,  the  pastures,  or  the  barns.  The  younger 
brethren,  after  having  milked  the  cows  of  the  com- 
munity, knelt  down,  with  their  pails  full  of  new 
milk,  to  receive  from  a distance  the  abbot’s  bless- 
ing, sometimes  accompanied  by  an  exhortation  use- 
ful to  their  souls.  During  one  of  the  last  summers 
of  his  life,  the  monks,  returning  in  the  evening  from 
reaping  the  scanty  harvest  of  their  island,  stopped 
short  as  they  approached  the  monastery,  suddenly 
touched  with  strange  emotion.  The  steward  of  the 
monastery,  Baithen,  the  friend  and  future  successor 
of  Columba,  asked  them,  “ Are  you  not  sensible  of 
something  very  unusual  here?”  “ Yes,”  said  the 
oldest  of  the  monks,  “ every  day,  at  this  hour  and 
place,  I breathe  a delicious  odour,  as  if  all  the 
flowers  in  the  world  were  collected  here.  I feel 
also  something  like  the  flame  of  the  hearth  which 
does  not  burn  but  warms  me  gently ; I experience, 
in  short,  in  my  heart  a joy  so  unusual,  so  incom- 
parable, that  I am  no  longer  sensible  of  either 
trouble  or  fatigue.  The  sheaves  which  I carry  on 


1 1 2 The  A Imsgiving  Blacksmith. 

my  back,  though  heavy,  weigh  upon  me  no  longer ; 
and  I know  not  how,  from  this  spot  to  the  monas- 
tery, they  seem  to  be  lifted  from  my  shoulders. 
What,  then,  is  this  wonder?”  All  the  others  gave 
the  same  account  of  their  sensations.  “ I will  tell 
you  what  it  is,”  said  the  steward;  “it  is  our  old 
master,  Columba,  always  full  of  anxiety  for  us,  who 
is  disturbed  to  find  us  so  late,  who  vexes  himself 
with  the  thought  of  our  fatigue,  and  who,  not  being 
able  to  come  to  meet  us  with  his  body,  sends  us  his 
.spirit  to  refresh,  rejoice,  and  console  us.” 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  he  re- 
served his  solicitude  for  his  monastic  labourers 
alone.  Far  from  that,  he  knew  how  to  appreciate 
the  work  of  laymen  when  sanctified  by  Christian 
virtue.  “ See,”  he  said  one  day  to  the  elders  of  the 
monastery,  “ at  this  moment  while  I speak,  such  a 
one  who  was  a blacksmith  yonder  in  Ireland — see 
him,  how  he  goes  up  to  heaven  ! He  dies  an  old 
man,  and  he  has  worked  all  his  life ; but  he  has  not 
worked  in  vain.  He  has  bought  eternal  life  with 
the  work  of  his  hands ; for  he  dispensed  all  his 
gains  in  alms ; and  I see  the  angels  who  are  going 
for  his  soul.”  It  will  be  admitted  that  the  praise  of 
manual  labour,  carried  to  a silly  length  in  our  days, 
has  been  rarely  expressed  in  a manner  so  solemn 
and  touching. 

It  is  also  recorded  that  he  took  pleasure  in  the 
society  of  laymen  during  his  journeys,  and  lived 
among  them  with  a free  and  delightful  familiarity. 


Duties  of  Hospitality.  113 

This  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  and  instructive 
phases  of  his  history.  He  continually  asked  and 
received  the  hospitality  not  only  of  the  rich,  but  also 
of  the  poor;  and  sometimes,  indeed,  received  a 
more  cordial  reception  from  the  poor  than  from  the 
rich.  To  those  who  refused  him  a shelter  he  pre- 
dicted prompt  punishment.  “ That  miser,”  he  said, 
“ who  despises  Christ  in  the  person  of  a traveller, 
shall  see  his  wealth  diminish  from  day  to  day  and 
come  to  nothing ; he  will  come  to  beggary,  and  his 
son  shall  go  from  door  to  door  holding  out  his  hand, 
which  shall  never  be  more  than  half  filled.”  When 
the  poor  received  him  under  their  roof,  he  inquired 
with  his  ordinary  thoughtfulness  into  their  resour- 
ces, their  necessities,  all  their  little  possessions.  At 
that  period  a man  seems  to  have  been  considered 
very  poor  in  Scotland  who  had  only  five  cows. 
This  was  all  the  fortune  of  a Lochaber  peasant  in 
whose  house  Columba,  who  continually  traversed 
this  district  when  going  to  visit  the  king  of  the 
Piets,  passed  a night,  and  found  a very  cordial 
welcome  notwithstanding  the  poverty  of  the  house. 
Next  morning  he  had  the  five  little  cows  brought 
into  his  presence  and  blessed  them,  predicting  to 
his  host  that  he  should  soon  have  five  hundred,  and 
that  the  blessing  of  the  grateful  missionary  should 
go  down  to  his  children  and  grandchildren — a pro- 
phecy which  was  faithfully  fulfilled. 

In  the  same  district  of  Lochaber,  which  is  still 
the  scene  of  those  great  deer-stalking  expeditions  in 


H 


1 14  Anecdotes  of 

which  the  British  aristocracy  delight,  our  saint  was 
one  day  accosted  by  an  unfortunate  poacher,  who 
had  not  the  means  of  maintaining  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren, and  who  asked  alms  from  him.  “ Poor  man,” 
said  Columba,  “go  and  cut  me  a rod  in  the  forest.” 
When  the  rod  was  brought  to  him,  the  abbot  of 
Iona  himself  sharpened  it  into  the  form  of  a spear. 
When  he  had  done  this  he  blessed  the  improvised 
javelin,  and  gave  it  to  his  suppliant,  telling  him 
that  if  he  kept  it  carefully,  and  used  it  only  against 
wild  beasts,  venison  should  never  be  wanting  in  his 
poor  house.  This  prophecy  also  was  fulfilled.  The 
poacher  planted  his  blessed  spear  in  a distant  cor- 
ner of  the  forest,  and  no  day  passed  that  he  did  not 
find  there  a hart  or  doe,  or  other  game,  so  that  he 
soon  had  enough  to  sell  to  his  neighbours  as  well 
as  to  provide  for  all  the  necessities  of  his  own 
house. 

Columba  thus  interested  himself  in  all  that  he 
saw,  in  all  that  went  on  around  him,  and  which  he 
could  turn  to  the  profit  of  the  poor  or  of  his  fellow- 
creatures  ; even  in  hunting  or  fishing  he  took  pains 
to  point  out  the  happy  moment  and  most  favourable 
spot  where  the  largest  salmon  or  pike  might  be 
found.  Wherever  he  found  himself  in  contact  with 
the  poor  or  with  strangers,  he  drew  them  to  him- 
self and  comforted  them  even  more  by  the  warm 
sympathy  of  his  generous  heart  than  by  material 
benefits.  He  identified  himself  with  their  fears, 
their  dangers,  and  their  vexations.  Always  a peace- 


His  Charity . 1 1 5 

maker  and  consoler,  he  took  advantage  here  of  the 
night’s  shelter  given  him  by  a rich  mountaineer  to 
end  a dispute  between  two  angry  neighbours ; and 
there  made  a chance  meeting  in  a Highland  gorge 
with  a countryman  an  occasion  for  reassuring  the 
peasant  as  to  the  consequences  of  the  ravages  made 
in  his  district  by  Pictish  or  Saxon  invaders.  “ My 
good  man,”  he  said,  “ thy  poor  cattle  and  thy  little 
all  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  robbers ; but 
thy  dear  little  family  is  safe — go  home  and  be  com- 
forted.” 

Such  was  this  tender  and  gentle  soul.  His  cha- 
rity might  sometimes  seem  to  have  degenerated 
into  feebleness,  so  great  was  the  pleasure  he  took 
in  all  the  details  of  benevolence  and  Christian 
brotherhood;  but  let  there  appear  an  injustice  to 
repair,  an  unfortunate  individual  to  defend,  an  op- 
pressor to  punish,  an  outrage  against  humanity  or 
misfortune  to  avenge,  and  Columba  immediately 
awoke  and  displayed  all  the  energy  of  his  youth. 
The  former  man  reappeared  in  a moment;  his 
passionate  temperament  recovered  the  mastery — 
his  distinctive  character,  vehement  in  expression 
and  resolute  in  action,  burst  forth  at  every  turn  ; 
and  his  natural  boldness  led  him,  in  the  face  of  all 
dangers,  to  lavish  remonstrances,  invectives,  and 
threats,  which  the  justice  of  God,  too  rarely  visible 
in  such  cases,  sometimes  deigned  to  fulfil. 

Among  the  many  sufferers  whom  he  found  on 
his  way,  it  is  natural  to  suppose  that  the  exiles,  who 


1 1 6 Doom  of  a Murderer . 

were  so  numerous  in  consequence  of  the  discords 
which  rent  the  Celtic  races,  would  most  of  all  call 
forth  his  sympathy.  Himself  an  exile,  he  was  the 
natural  protector  of  all  who  were  exiled.  He  took 
under  his  special  guardianship  a banished  Piet, 
of  noble  family,  probably  one  of  those  who  had 
received  him  with  kindness  and  listened  to  his 
teachings  at  the  time  of  his  first  missions  in  North- 
ern Caledonia.  Columba  confided,  or,  as  the  his- 
torian says,  recommended,  assigned  in  manum , 
according  to  the  custom  which  came  to  be  general 
in  feudal  times,  his  banished  friend  to  a chief  called 
Feradagh,  who  occupied  the  large  island  of  Islay, 
south  of  Iona,  praying  him  to  conceal  his  guest  for 
some  months  among  his  clan  and  dependants.  A 
few  days  after  he  had  solemnly  accepted  the  trust, 
this  villain  had  the  noble  exile  treacherously  mur- 
dered, no  doubt  for  the  sake  of  the  articles  of  value 
he  had  with  him.  When  he  received  the  news, 
Columba  cried,  “ It  is  not  to  me,  it  is  to  God,  that 
this  wretched  man,  whose  name  shall  be  effaced  out 
of  the  book  of  life,  has  lied.  It  is  summer  now, 
but  before  autumn  comes — before  he  can  eat  of  the 
meat  which  he  is  fattening  for  his  table — he  shall 
die  a sudden  death,  and  be  dragged  to  hell.”  The 
indignant  old  man’s  prophecy  was  reported  to 
Feradagh,  who  pretended  to  laugh  at  it,  but  never- 
theless kept  it  in  his  mind.  Before  the  beginning 
of  autumn,  he  ordered  a fattened  pig  to  be  killed 
and  roasted,  and  even  before  the  animal  was  entirely 


Fearlessness  of  the  Saint . 117 

cooked  gave  orders  that  part  of  it  should  be  served 
to  him,  in  order  to  prove,  at  the  earliest  possible 
moment,  the  falsehood  of  the  prophesied  vengeance. 
But  scarcely  had  he  taken  up  the  morsel,  when, 
before  Jie  had  carried  it  to  his  mouth,  he  fell  back 
and  died.  Those  who  were  present  admired  and 
trembled  to  see  how  the  Lord  God  honoured  and 
justified  His  prophet;  and  those  who  knew  Colum- 
ba’s  life  as  a young  man  recalled  to  each  other 
how,  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  monastic  life,  the 
murderer  of  the  innocent  maiden  had  fallen  dead 
at  the  sound  of  his  avenging  voice. 

In  his  just  wrath  against  the  spoilers  of  the  poor 
and  the  persecutors  of  the  Church,  he  drew  back 
before  no  danger,  not  even  before  the  assassin’s 
dagger.  Among  the  rievers  who  infested  Scottish 
Caledonia,  making  armed  incursions  into  their 
neighbours’  lands,  and  carrying  on  that  system  of 
pillage  which,  up  to  the  eighteenth  century,  con- 
tinued to  characterise  the  existence  of  the  Scottish 
clans,  he  had  distinguished  the  sons  of  Donnell, 
who  belonged  to  a branch  of  the  family  which  ruled 
the  Dalriadian  colony.  Columba  did  not  hesitate 
to  excommunicate  them.  Exasperated  by  this  sen- 
tence, one  of  these  powerful  ill-doers,  named  or 
surnamed  Lamm-Dess  ( Right-hana\  took  advantage 
of  a visit  which  the  great  abbot  paid  to  a distant 
island,  and  undertook  to  murder  him  in  his  sleep. 
But  Finn-Lugh,  one  of  the  saint’s  companions,  hav- 
ing had  some  suspicion  or  instinctive  presentiment 


1 1 8 A Narrow  Escape . 

of  danger,  and  desiring  to  save  his  father’s  life  by 
the  sacrifice  of  his  own,  borrowed  Columba’s  cowl, 
and  wrapped  himself  in  it.  The  assassin  struck 
him  whom  he  found  clothed  in  the  well-known 
costume  of  the  abbot,  and  then  fled.  But  the 
sacred  vestment  proved  impenetrable  armour  to  the 
generous  disciple,  who  was  not  even  wounded. 
Columba,  when  informed  of  the  event,  said  nothing 
at  the  moment.  But  a year  after,  when  he  had 
returned  to  Iona,  the  abbot  said  to  his  community, 
“ A year  ago  Lamm-Dess  did  his  best  to  murder 
my  dear  Finn-Lugh  in  my  place;  now  at  this  mo- 
ment it  is  he  who  is  being  killed.”  And,  in  fact, 
the  news  shortly  arrived  that  the  assassin  had  just 
died  under  the  sword  of  a warrior,  who  struck  the 
fatal  blow  while  invoking  the  name  of  Columba,  in 
a fight  which  brought  the  depredations  of  these 
rievers  to  an  end. 

Some  time  before,  another  criminal  of  the  same 
family,  called  Joan,  had  chosen  for  his  victim  one 
of  the  hosts  of  Columba,  one  of  those  poor  men 
whom  the  abbot  had  enriched  by  his  blessing  in 
exchange  for  the  hospitality  which  even  in  their 
poverty  they  had  not  refused.  This  poor  man  lived 
on  the  wild  and  barren  peninsula  of  Ardnamurchan, 
a sombre  mass  which  rises  up  out  of  the  waves  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  forms  the  most  western  point  of 
the  Scottish  mainland.  The  benediction  of  the 
missionary  had  brought  him  good  fortune,  as  had 


A Highland  Riever . 1 1 9 

been  the  case  with  the  peasant  of  Lochaber,  and 
his  five  cows,  too,  had  multiplied,  and  were  then 
more  than  a hundred  in  number.  Columba  was 
not  satisfied  with  merely  enriching  his  humble 
friend,  but  gave  him  also  a place  in  his  affec- 
tions, and  had  even  bestowed  upon  him  his  own 
name;  so  that  all  his  neighbours  called  him  Co- 
lumbain , the  friend  of  St  Columba.  Three  times 
in  succession,  Joan,  the  princely  spoiler,  had  pil- 
laged and  ravaged  the  house  of  the  enriched  pea- 
sant, the  friend  of  the  abbot  of  Iona;  the  third 
time,  as  he  went  back  with  his  bravos,  laden  with 
booty,  to  the  boat  which  awaited  him  on  the  beach, 
he  met  the  great  abbot,  whom  he  had  supposed  far 
distant.  Columba  reproved  him  for  his  exactions 
and  crimes,  and  entreated  him  to  give  up  his  prey; 
but  the  riever  continued  his  course,  and  answered 
only  by  an  immovable  silence,  until  he  had  gained 
the  beach  and  entered  his  boat.  As  soon  as  he 
was  in  his  vessel,  he  began  to  answer  the  abbot’s 
prayers  by  mockeries  and  insults.  Then  the  noble 
old  man  plunged  into  the  sea,  up  to  his  knees,  as 
if  to  cling  to  the  boat  which  contained  the  spoils 
of  his  friend;  and  when  it  went  off  he  remained 
for  some  time  with  his  two  hands  raised  towards 
heaven,  praying  with  ardour.  When  his  prayer 
was  ended,  he  came  out  of  the  water,  and  returned 
to  his  companions,  who  were  seated  on  a neigh- 
bouring mound,  to  dry  himself.  After  a pause,  he 


120 


His  Destruction . 


said  to  them,  “ This  miserable  man,  this  evil-doer, 
who  despises  Christ  in  His  servants,  shall  never 
more  land  upon  the  shore  from  which  you  have 
seen  him  depart — he  shall  never  touch  land  again. 
To-day  a little  cloud  begins  to  rise  in  the  north, 
and  from  that  cloud  comes  a tempest  that  shall 
swallow  him  up,  him  and  his ; not  one  single  soul 
shall  escape  to  tell  the  tale.”  The  day  was  fine, 
the  sea  calm,  and  the  sky  perfectly  serene.  Notwith- 
standing, the  cloud  which  Columba  had  announced 
soon  appeared;  and  the  spectators,  turning  their 
eyes  to  the  sea,  saw  the  tempest  gather,  increase, 
and  pursue  the  spoilers.  The  storm  reached  them 
between  the  islands  of  Mull  and  Colonsay,  from 
whose  shores  their  boat  was  seen  to  sink  and  perish, 
with  all  its  crew  and  all  its  spoils. 

We  have  all  read  in  Caesar’s  Commentaries  how, 
when  he  landed  on  the  shores  of  Britain,  the  stan- 
dard-bearer of  the  tenth  legion  threw  himself  into 
the  sea,  up  to  the  knees  in  water,  to  encourage  his 
comrades.  Thanks  to  the  perverse  complaisance 
of  history  for  all  feats  of  force,  this  incident  is  im- 
mortal. Caesar,  however,  moved  by  depraved  am- 
bition, came  but  to  oppress  a free  and  innocent 
race,  and  to  bring  it  under  the  odious  yoke  of 
Roman  tyranny,  of  which,  happily,  it  has  retained 
no  trace.  How  much  grander  and  more  worthy  of 
recollection,  I do  not  say  to  every  Christian,  but  to 
every  upright  soul,  is  the  sight  offered  to  us  at  the 


Cczsar  and  St  Columba . 1 2 1 

other  extremity  of  the  great  Britannic  Isle,  by  this 
old  monk,  who  also  rushed  into  the  sea  up  to  his 
knees — but  to  pursue  a savage  oppressor,  in  the 
interest  of  an  obscure  victim,  thus  claiming  for 
himself,  under  his  legendary  aureola,  the  everlast- 
ing greatness  of  humanity,  justice,  and  pity  ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

©olumtm’g  lagt  Hearg — Dead) — |§te 
©Jjaracter* 


the  side  of  the  terrible  acts  of  ven- 
geance which  have  just  been  nar- 
rated, the  student  loves  to  find  in 
this  bold  enemy  of  the  wicked  and 
the  oppressor  a gentle  and  familiar  sympathy  for 
all  the  affections  as  well  as  all  the  trials  of  domestic 
life.  Rich  and  poor,  kings  and  peasants,  awoke  in 
his  breast  the  same  kindly  emotion,  expressed  with 
the  same  fulness.  When  King  Aidan  brought  his 
children  to  him,  and  spoke  of  his  anxiety  about 
their  future  lives,  he  did  not  content  himself  with 
seeing  the  eldest.  “ Have  you  none  younger  ? ” 
said  the  abbot ; “ bring  them  all — let  me  hold  them 
in  my  arms  and  on  my  heart!”  And  when  the 
younger  children  were  brought,  one  fair-haired  boy, 
Hector  (Eochaidh  Buidhe),  came  forward  running, 
and  threw  himself  upon  the  saint’s  knees.  Columba 


His  Tenderness . 


123 


held  him  long  pressed  to  his  heart,  then  kissed  his 
forehead,  blessed  him,  and  prophesied  for  him  a 
long  life,  a prosperous  reign,  and  a great  posterity. 

Let  us  listen  while  his  biographer  tells  how  he 
came  to  the  aid  of  a woman  in  extremity,  and  how 
he  made  peace  in  a divided  household.  One  day 
at  Iona  he  suddenly  stopped  short  while  reading, 
and  said  with  a smile  to  his  monks,  u I must  now 
go  and  pray  for  a poor  little  woman  who  is  in  the 
pains  of  childbirth,  and  suffers  like  a true  daughter 
of  Eve.  She  is  down  yonder  in  Ireland,  and 
reckons  upon  my  prayers,  for  she  is  my  kinswoman, 
and  of  my  mother’s  family.”  Upon  this  he  hastened 
to  the  church,  and  when  his  prayer  was  ended 
returned  to  his  brethren,  saying,  “ She  is  delivered. 
The  Lord  Jesus,  who  deigned  to  be  born  of  a 
woman,  has  come  to  her  aid  \ this  time  she  will 
not  die.” 

Another  day,  while  he  was  visiting  an  island  on 
the  Irish  coast,  a pilot  came  to  him  to  complain  of 
his  wife,  who  had  taken  an  aversion  to  him.  The 
abbot  called  her  and  reminded  her  of  the  duties 
imposed  upon  her  by  the  law  of  the  Lord.  “ I am 
ready  to  do  everything,”  said  the  woman — “I  will 
obey  you  in  the  hardest  things  you  can  command. 
I do  not  draw  back  from  any  of  the  cares  of  the 
house.  I will  go  even,  if  it  is  desired,  on  pilgrim- 
age to  Jerusalem,  or  I will  shut  myself  up  in  a 
nunnery  — in  short,  I will  do  everything  except 
live  with  him.” 


124 


A Reconciliation . 


The  abbot  answered  that  there  could  be  no 
question  of  pilgrimage  or  of  a convent  so  long  as 
her  husband  lived;  “but,”  he  added,  “let  us  try  to 
pray  God,  all  three,  fasting — you,  your  husband, 
and  myself.” 

“Ah,”  said  the  woman,  “I  know  that  you  can 
obtain  even  what  is  impossible  from  God.”  How- 
ever, his  proposal  was  carried  out — the  three  fasted, 
and  Columba  passed  the  whole  night  in  prayer 
without  ever  closing  his  eyes.  Next  morning  he 
said  to  the  woman,  with  the  gentle  irony  which  he 
so  often  employed,  “ Tell  me  to  what  convent  are 
you  bound  after  your  yesterday’s  projects  ? ” “ To 

none,”  said  the  woman;  “my  heart  has  been 
changed  to-night.  I know  not  how  I have  passed 
from  hate  to  love.”  And  from  that  day  until  the 
hour  of  her  death  she  lived  in  a tender  and  faithful 
union  with  her  husband. 

But  Columba  fortunately  was  connected  with 
other  households  more  united,  where  he  could  ad- 
mire the  happiness  of  his  friends  without  feeling 
himself  compelled  to  make  peace.  From  his  sanc- 
tuary at  Iona  his  habitual  solicitude  and  watchful 
sympathy  followed  them  to  their  last  hour.  One 
day  he  was  alone  with  one  of  the  Saxons  whom  he 
had  converted  and  attached  to  his  community,  and 
who  was  the  baker  of  the  monks ; while  this  stran- 
ger prepared  his  bread,  he  heard  the  abbot  say, 
looking  up  to  heaven,  “ Oh  ! happy,  happy  woman  ! 
She  goes  into  heaven  with  a guard  of  angels.” 


125 


Visions  of  the  Saint . 

Exactly  a year  after,  the  abbot  and  the  Saxon  baker 
were  again  together.  “ I see  the  woman,  said 
Columba,  "of  whom  I spoke  to  thee  last  year 
coming  down  from  heaven  to  meet  the  soul  of  her 
husband,  who  has  just  died.  She  contends  with 
powerful  enemies  for  that  dear  soul,  by  the  help  of 
the  holy  angels : she  gains  the  day,  she  triumphs, 
because  her  goodman  has  been  a just  man  and 
the  two  are  united  again  in  the  home  of  ever- 
lasting consolation.” 

This  vision  was  preceded  and  followed  by  many 
others  of  the  same  description,  in  which  the  blessed 
death  of  many  bishops  and  monks,  his  friends  and 
contemporaries,  were  announced  to  him.  They 
seem  to  have  been  intended  to  give  him  a glimpse 
of  that  heaven  into  which  God  was  shortly  to  call 
him.  Nor  was  it  only  at  Iona  that  these  super- 
natural graces  were  accorded  to  him,  for  he  did  not 
limit  his  unwearied  activity  to  the  narrow  enclosure 
of  that  island,  any  more  in  the  decline  of  his  life 
than  in  the  earlier  period  of  his  emigration.  Up 
to  old  age  he  continued  to  have  sufficient  strength 
and  courage  to  return  to  the  most  northern  regions 
where  he  had  preached  the  faith  to  the  Piets  j and 
it  was  in  one  of  his  last  missionary  journeys,  when 
upon  the  banks  of  Loch  Ness,  to  the  north  of  the 
great  line  of  waters  which  cuts  Caledonia  in  two, 
at  a distance  of  fifty  leagues  from  Iona,  that  he 
was  permitted  to  see  the  angels  come  to  meet  the 
soul  of  the  old  Piet,  who,  faithful  during  all  his  life 


126  Communion  with  Angels . 

to  the  law  of  nature,  received  baptism,  and  with 
it  eternal  salvation,  from  the  great  missionary’s 
hands. 

At  this  period  the  angels,  whom  he  saw  carrying 
to  heaven  the  soul  of  the  just  and  penitent,  and 
aiding  the  believing  wife  to  make  an  entrance 
there  for  her  husband,  continually  appeared  to  him 
and  hovered  about  him.  Making  all  possible 
allowance  for  the  exaggerations  and  fables  which 
the  proverbial  credulity  of  Celtic  nations  has 
added  to  the  legends  of  their  saints,  no  Christian 
will  be  tempted  to  deny  the  verified  narratives 
which  bear  witness,  in  Columba’s  case  as  well  as  in 
that  of  the  other  saints,  to  supernatural  appearances 
which  enriched  his  life,  and  especially  his  old  age. 
Those  wonderful  soldiers  of  virtue  and  Christian 
truth  needed  such  miracles  to  help  them  to  support 
the  toils  and  live  through  the  trials  of  their  danger- 
ous mission.  They  required  to  ascend  from  time 
to  time  into  celestial  regions  to  find  strength  there 
for  their  continual  struggle  against  all  obstacles 
and  perils  and  continually  renewed  temptations — 
and  to  learn  to  brave  the  enmities,  the  savage 
manners,  and  blind  hatreds  of  the  nations  whom  it 
was  the  aim  of  their  lives  to  set  free. 

“Let  no  one  follow  me  to-day,”  Columba  said 
one  morning  with  unusual  severity  to  the  assembled 
community : “ I would  be  alone  in  the  little  plain 
to  the  west  of  the  isle.”  He  was  obeyed;  but  a 
brother,  more  curious  and  less  obedient  than  the 


127 


The  Angels  Hill . 

rest,  followed  him  far  off,  and  saw  him,  erect  and 
motionless,  with  his  hands  and  his  eyes  raised  to 
heaven,  standing  on  a sandy  hillock,  where  he  was 
soon  surrounded  by  a crowd  of  angels,  who  came 
to  bear  him  company  and  to  talk  with  him.  The 
hillock  has  to  this  day  retained  the  name  of  Cnocan 
Aingel — the  Angels’  Hill.  And  the  citizens  of  the 
cdestial  country,  as  they  were  called  at  Iona,  came 
often  to  console  and  strengthen  their  future  com- 
panion during  the  long  winter  nights  which  he 
passed  in  prayer  in  some  retired  corner,  voluntarily 
exposed  to  all  the  torments  of  sleeplessness  and 
cold. 

For  as  he  approached  the  end  of  his  career  this 
great  servant  of  God  consumed  his  strength  in 
vigils,  fasts,  and  dangerous  macerations.  His  life, 
which  had  been  so  full  of  generous  struggles,  hard 
trial,  and  toil  in  the  service  of  God  and  his  neigh- 
bour, seemed  to  him  neither  full  enough  nor  pure 
enough.  In  proportion  as  the  end  drew  near  he 
redoubled  his  austerities  and  mortifications.  Every 
night,  according  to  one  of  his  biographers,  he 
plunged  into  cold  water  and  remained  there  for  the 
time  necessary  to  recite  an  entire  psalter.  One 
day,  when,  bent  by  age,  he  sought,  perhaps  in  a 
neighbouring  island,  a retirement  still  more  pro- 
found than  usual,  in  which  to  pray,  he  saw  a poor 
woman  gathering  wild  herbs  and  even  nettles,  who 
told  him  that  her  poverty  was  such  as  to  forbid 
her  all  other  food.  Upon  which  the  old  abbot  re- 


128  Increasing  A us  ferities . 

proached  himself  bitterly  that  he  had  not  yet  come 
to  that  point.  “ See,”  he  said,  “ this  poor  woman, 
who  finds  her  miserable  life  worth  the  trouble  of 
being  thus  prolonged ; and  we,  who  profess  to  de- 
serve heaven  by  our  austerities,  we  live  in  luxury ! ” 
When  he  went  back  to  his  monastery  he  gave  orders 
that  he  should  be  served  with  no  other  food  than 
the  wild  and  bitter  herbs  with  which  the  beggar 
supported  her  existence ; and  he  severely  reproved 
his  minister,  Diarmid,  who  had  come  from  Ireland 
with  him,  when  he,  out  of  compassion  for  his  mas- 
ter’s old  age  and  weakness,  threw  a little  butter 
into  the  caldron  in  which  this  miserable  fare  was 
cooked. 

The  celestial  light  which  was  soon  to  receive 
him  began  already  to  surround  him  like  a garment 
or  a shroud.  His  monks  told  each  other  that  the 
solitary  cell  in  the  isle  of  Himba,  near  Iona,  which 
he  had  built  for  himself,  was  lighted  up  every 
night  by  a great  light,  which  could  be  seen  through 
the  chinks  of  the  door  and  keyhole,  while  the  abbot 
chanted  unknown  canticles  till  daybreak.  After 
having  remained  there  three  days  and  nights  with- 
out food,  he  came  out,  full  of  joy  at  having  dis- 
covered the  mysterious  meaning  of  several  texts  of 
Holy  Scripture,  which  up  to  that  time  he  had  not 
understood.  When  he  returned  to  Iona  to  die,  con- 
tinuing faithful  to  his  custom  of  spending  a great 
part  of  the  night  in  prayer,  he  bore  about  with  him 
everywhere  the  miraculous  light  which  already  sur- 


Legends  of  his  Latter  Days . 129 

rounded  him  like  the  nimbus  of  his  holiness.  The 
entire  community  was  involuntarily  agitated  by  the 
enj  oyment  of  that  foretaste  of  paradise.  One  winter’s 
night,  a young  man  who  was  destined  to  succeed 
Columba  as  fourth  abbot  of  Iona  remained  in  the 
church  while  the  others  slept : all  at  once  he  saw 
the  abbot  come  in  preceded  by  a golden  light 
which  fell  from  the  heights  of  the  vaulted  roof,  and 
lighted  all  the  corners  of  the  building,  even  includ- 
ing the  little  lateral  oratory  where  the  young  monk 
hid  himself  in  alarm.  All  who  passed  during  the 
night  before  the  church,  while  their  old  abbot 
prayed,  were  startled  by  this  light,  which  dazzled 
them  like  lightning.  Another  of  the  young 
monks,  whose  education  was  specially  directed  by 
the  abbot  himself,  resolved  to  ascertain  whether 
the  same  illumination  existed  in  Columba’s  cell ; 
and  notwithstanding  that  he  had  been  expressly 
forbidden  to  do  so,  he  got  up  in  the  night  and 
went  groping  to  the  door  of  the  cell  to  look  in,  but 
fled  immediately,  blinded  by  the  light  that  filled  it. 

These  signs,  which  were  the  forerunners  of  his 
deliverance,  showed  themselves  for  several  years 
towards  the  end  of  his  life,  which  he  believed  and 
hoped  was  nearer  its  termination  than  it  proved  to 
be.  But  this  remnant  of  existence,  from  which  he 
sighed  to  be  liberated,  was  held  fast  by  the  filial 
love  of  his  disciples,  and  the  ardent  prayers  of  so 
many  new  Christian  communities  founded  or  minis- 
tered to  by  his  zealous  care.  Two  of  his  monks, 

1 


1 30  Prophecy  of  his  End . 

one  Irish  and  one  Saxon,  of  the  number  of  those 
whom  he  admitted  to  his  cell  to  help  him  in  his 
labour  or  to  execute  his  instructions,  saw  him  one 
day  change  countenance,  and  perceived  in  his  face 
a sudden  expression  of  the  most  contrary  emotions : 
first  a beatific  joy,  which  made  him  raise  to  heaven 
a look  full  of  the  sweetest  and  tenderest  gratitude ; 
but  a minute  after  this  ray  of  supernatural  joy  gave 
place  to  an  expression  of  heavy  and  profound  sad- 
ness. The  two  spectators  pressed  him  with  ques- 
tions which  he  refused  to  answer.  At  length  they 
threw  themselves  at  his  knees,  and  begged  him, 
with  tears,  not  to  afflict  them  by  hiding  what  had 
been  revealed  to  him.  “ Dear  children,”  he  said 
to  them,  “I  do  not  wish  to  afflict  you.  . . . 

Know,  then,  that  it  is  thirty  years  to-day  since  I 
began  my  pilgrimage  in  Caledonia.  I have  long 
prayed  God  to  let  my  exile  end  with  this  thirtieth 
year,  and  to  recall  me  to  the  heavenly  country. 
When  you  saw  me  so  joyous,  it  was  because  I 
could  already  see  the  angels  who  came  to  seek  my 
soul.  But  all  at  once  they  stopped  short,  down 
there  upon  that  rock  at  the  farthest  limit  of  the 
sea  which  surrounds  our  island,  as  if  they  would 
approach  to  take  me,  and  could  not.  And,  in 
truth,  they  could  not,  because  the  Lord  has  paid 
less  regard  to  my  ardent  prayer  than  to  that  of  the 
many  churches  which  have  prayed  for  me,  and 
which  have  obtained,  against  my  will,  that  I should 
still  dwell  in  this  body  for  four  years.  This  is  the 


A necdotes . 


131 

reason  of  my  sadness.  But  in  four  years  I shall 
die  without  being  sick ; in  four  years,  I know  it 
and  see  it,  they  will  come  back,  these  holy  angels, 
and  I shall  take  my  flight  with  them  towards  the 
Lord.” 

At  the  end  of  the  four  years  thus  fixed  he  ar- 
ranged everything  for  his  departure.  It  was  the 
end  of  May,  and  it  was  his  desire  to  take  leave  of 
the  monks  who  worked  in  the  fields  in  the  only 
fertile  part  of  Iona,  the  western  side.  His  great 
age  prevented  him  from  walking,  and  he  was 
drawn  in  a car  by  oxen.  When  he  reached 
the  labourers  he  said  to  them,  “ I greatly  desired 
to  die  a month  ago,  on  Easter-day,  and  it  was 
granted  to  me;  but  I preferred  to  wait  a little 
longer,  in  order  that  the  festival  might  not  be 
changed  into  a day  of  sadness  for  you.”  And 
when  all  wept  he  did  all  he  could  to  console 
them.  Then  turning  towards  the  east,  from  the 
top  of  his  rustic  chariot  he  blessed  the  island  and 
all  its  inhabitants— a blessing  which,  according  to 
local  tradition,  was  like  that  of  St  Patrick  in  Ire- 
land, and  drove,  from  that  day,  all  vipers  and 
venomous  creatures  out  of  the  island. 

On  Saturday  in  the  following  week  he  went, 
leaning  on  his  faithful  attendant  Diarmid,  to  bless 
the  granary  of  the  monastery.  Seeing  there  two 
great  heaps  of  corn,  the  fruit  of  the  last  harvest, 
he  said,  “ 1 see  with  joy  that  my  dear  monastic 
family,  if  I must  leave  them  this  year,  will  not 


132  The  Aged  Horse . 

at  least  suffer  from  famine.”  “ Dear  father,”  said 
Diarmid,  “why  do  you  thus  sadden  us  by  talk- 
ing of  your  death?”  “Ah,  well,”  said  the  abbot, 
“ here  is  a little  secret  which  I will  tell  thee  if 
thou  wilt  swear  on  thy  knees  to  tell  no  one  before 
I am  gone.  To-day  is  Saturday,  the  day  which  the 
Holy  Scriptures  call  Sabbath  or  rest.  And  it  will 
be  truly  my  day  of  rest,  for  it  shall  be  the  last  of 
my  laborious  life.  This  very  night  I shall  enter 
into  the  path  of  my  fathers.  Thou  weepest,  dear 
Diarmid,  but  console  thyself;  it  is  my  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  who  deigns  to  invite  me  to  rejoin  Him;  it  is 
He  who  has  revealed  to  me  that  my  summons  will 
come  to-night.” 

Then  he  left  the  storehouse  to  return  to  the 
monastery,  but  when  he  had  gone  half-way  stopped 
to  rest  at  a spot  which  is  still  marked  by  one  of 
the  ancient  crosses  of  Iona — the  monument  called 
Maclean’s  Cross.  At  this  moment  an  ancient  and 
faithful  servant,  the  old  white  horse  which  had 
been  employed  to  carry  milk  from  the  dairy  daily 
to  the  monastery,  came  towards  him.  He  came  and 
put  his  head  upon  his  master’s  shoulder,  as  if  to 
take  leave  of  him.  The  eyes  of  the  old  horse  had 
an  expression  so  pathetic  that  they  seemed  to  be 
bathed  in  tears.  Diarmid  would  have  sent  the 
animal  away,  but  the  good  old  man  forbade  him. 
“The  horse  loves  me,”  he  said,  “leave  him  with 
me ; let  him  weep  for  my  departure.  The  Creator 
has  revealed  to  this  poor  animal  what  He  has  hidden 


133 


Last  Occupations. 

from  thee,  a reasonable  man.”  Upon  which,  still 
caressing  the  faithful  brute,  he  gave  him  a last 
blessing.  When  this  was  clone  he  used  the  rem- 
nants of  his  strength  to  climb  to  the  top  of  a hillock 
from  which  he  could  see  all  the  isle  and  the  monas- 
tery, and  there  lifted  up  his  hands  to  pronounce 
a prophetic  benediction  on  the  sanctuary  he  had 
created.  “ This  little  spot,  so  small  and  low,  shall 
be  greatly  honoured,  not  only  by  the  Scots  kings 
and  people,  but  also  by  foreign  chiefs  and  barbarous 
nations ; and  it  shall  be  venerated  even  by  the 
saints  of  other  Churches.” 

After  this  he  went  down  to  the  monastery,  en- 
tered his  cell,  and  began  to  work  for  the  last  time. 
He  was  then  occupied  in  transcribing  the  Psalter. 
When  he  had  come  to  the  33d  Psalm  and  the  verse, 
Inquirentes  autem  Domnum  non  deficient  otnm  bono, 
he  stopped  short.  “ I must  stop  here,”  he  said ; 
“ Baithen  will  write  the  rest.”  Baithen,  as  has  been 
seen,  was  the  steward  of  Iona,  and  was  to  become  its 
abbot.  After  this  the  aged  saint  was  present  at  the 
vigil  service  before  Sunday  in  the  church.  When 
he  returned  to  his  cell  he  seated  himself  upon  the 
naked  stones  which  served  the  septuagenarian  for 
bed  and  pillow,  and  which  were  shown  for  nearly  a 
century  near  his  tomb.  Then  he  intrusted  to  his 
only  companion  a last  message  for  the  community: 
“ Dear  children,  this  is  what  I command  with  my 
last  words — let  peace  and  charity,  a charity  mutual 
and  sincere,  reign  always  among  you  ! If  you  act 


134 


His  Death . 


thus,  following  the  example  of  the  saints,  God  who 
strengthens  the  just  will  help  you,  and  I,  who  shall 
be  near  Him,  will  intercede  on  your  behalf,  and  you 
shall  obtain  of  Him  not  only  all  the  necessities  of 
the  present  life  in  sufficient  quantity,  but  still  more 
the  rewards  of  eternal  life,  reserved  for  those  who 
keep  His  law.” 

These  were  his  last  words.  As  soon  as  the  mid- 
night bell  had  rung  for  the  matins  of  the  Sunday 
festival,  he  rose  and  hastened  before  the  other  monks 
to  the  church,  where  he  knelt  down  before  the  altar. 
Diarmid  followed  him,  but  as  the  church  was  not 
yet  lighted  he  could  only  find  him  by  groping  and 
crying  in  a plaintive  voice,  “ Where  art  thou,  my 
father?”  He  found  Columba  lying  before  the 
altar,  and,  placing  himself  at  his  side,  raised  the  old 
abbot’s  venerable  head  upon  his  knees.  The  whole 
community  soon  arrived  with  lights,  and  wept  as 
one  man  at  the  sight  of  their  dying  father.  Co- 
lumba opened  his  eyes  once  more,  and  turned  them 
to  his  children  on  either  side  with  a look  full  of 
serene  and  radiant  joy.  Then  with  the  aid  of 
Diarmid  he  raised,  as  best  he  might,  his  right  hand 
to  bless  them  all ; his  hand  dropped,  the  last  sigh 
came  from  his  lips ; and  his  face  remained  calm 
and  sweet  like  that  of  a man  who  in  his  sleep  had 
seen  a vision  of  heaven. 

Such  was  the  life  and  death  of  the  first  great 
apostle  of  Great  Britain.  We  have  lingered,  per- 


i35 


Grandeur  of  Jus  Life. 

haps,  too  long  on  the  grand  form  of  this  monk, 
rising  up  before  us  from  the  midst  of  the  Hebri- 
dean sea,  who,  for  the  third  part  of  a century, 
spread  over  those  sterile  isles,  and  gloomy  distant 
shores,  a pure  and  fertilising  light.  In  a confused 
age  and  unknown  region  he  displayed  all  that  is 
greatest  and  purest,  and,  it  must  be  added,  most 
easily  forgotten,  in  human  genius : the  gift  of  ruling 
souls  by  ruling  himself.  To  select  the  most  marked 
and  graphic  incidents  from  the  general  tissue  of  his 
life,  and  those  most  fit  to  unfold  that  which  attracts 
the  modern  reader— that  is,  his  personal  character 
and  influence  upon  contemporary  events — from  a 
world  of  minute  details  having  almost  exclusive 
reference  to  matters  supernatural  or  ascetical,  has 
been  no  easy  task.  But  when  this  is  done,  it  be- 
comes comparatively  easy  to  represent  to  ourselves 
the  tall  old  man,  with  his  fine  and  regular  features, 
his  sweet  and  powerful  voice,  the  Irish  tonsure 
high  on  his  shaven  head,  and  his  long  locks  falling 
behind,  clothed  with  his  monastic  cowl,  and  seated 
at  the  prow  of  his  coracle,  steering  through  the 
misty  archipelago  and  narrow  lakes  of  the  north  of 
Scotland,  and  bearing  from  isle  to  isle  and  from 
shore  to  shore,  light,  justice,  and  truth,  the  life  of 
the  conscience  and  of  the  soul. 

One  loves  above  all  to  study  the  depths  of  that 
soul,  and  the  changes  which  had  taken  place  in  it 
since  its  youth.  No  more  than  his  namesake  of 
Luxeuil,  the  monastic  apostle  of  Burgundy,  was  he 


136  Peculiarities  of  his  Character. 

of  the  Piets  and  Scots  a Columba.  Gentleness  was 
of  all  qualities  precisely  the  one  in  which  he  failed 
the  most.  At  the  beginning  of  his  life  the  future 
abbot  of  Iona  showed  himself  still  more  than  the 
abbot  of  Luxeuil  to  be  animated  by  all  the  vivaci- 
ties of  his  age,  associated  with  all  the  struggles  and 
discords  of  his  race  and  country.  He  was  vindic- 
tive, passionate,  bold,  a man  of  strife,  born  a sol- 
dier' rather  than  a monk,  and  known,  praised,  and 
blamed  as  a soldier — so  that  even  in  his  lifetime 
he  was  invoked  in  fight ; and  continued  a soldier, 
insulanns  miles , even  upon  the  island  rock  from 
which  he  rushed  forth  to  preach,  convert,  enlighten, 
reconcile,  and  reprimand  both  princes  and  nations, 
men  and  women,  laymen  and  clerks. 

He  was  at  the  same  time  full  of  contradictions 
and  contrasts — at  once  tender  and  irritable,  rude 
and  courteous,  ironical  and  compassionate,  caress- 
ing and  imperious,  grateful  and  revengeful — led  by 
pity  as  well  as  by  wrath,  ever  moved  by  generous 
passions,  and  among  all  passions  fired  to  the  very 
end  of  his  life  by  two  which  his  countrymen  under- 
stand the  best,  the  love  of  poetry  and  the  love  of 
country.  Little  inclined  to  melancholy  wThen  he 
had  once  surmounted  the  great  sorrow  of  his  life, 
which  was  his  exile ; little  disposed  even,  save  to- 
wards the  end,  to  contemplation  or  solitude,  but 
trained  by  prayer  and  austerities  to  triumphs  of 
evangelical  exposition;  despising  rest,  untiring  in 
mental  and  manual  toil;  born  for  eloquence,  and 


Versatility  of  Power . 1 3 7 

gifted  with  a voice  so  penetrating  and  sonorous 
that  it  was  thought  of  afterwards  as  one  of  the  most 
miraculous  gifts  that  he  had  received  of  God ; frank 
and  loyal,  original  and  powerful  in  his  words  as  in 
his  actions — in  cloister  and  mission  and  parliament, 
on  land  and  on  sea,  in  Ireland  as  in  Scotland, 
always  swayed  by  the  love  of  God  and  of  his  neigh- 
bour, whom  it  was  his  will  and  pleasure  to  serve 
with  an  impassioned  uprightness.  Such  was  Co- 
lumba.  Besides  the  monk  and  missionary  there 
was  in  him  the  makings  of  a sailor,  soldier,  poet, 
and  orator.  To  us,  looking  back,  he  appears  a 
personage  as  singular  as  he  is  lovable,  in  whom, 
through  all  the  mists  of  the  past  and  all  the  cross- 
lights  of  legend,  the  man  may  still  be  recognised 
under  the  saint— a man  capable  and  worthy  of  the 
supreme  honour  of  holiness,  since  he  knew  how  to 
subdue  his  inclinations,  his  weakness,  his  instincts, 
and  his  passions,  and  to  transform  them  into  docile 
and  invincible  weapons  for  the  salvation  of  souls 
and  the  glory  of  God. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Spiritual  3Bw*nD ants  of  St  ©olumfca. 

HE  influence  of  Columba,  as  of  all  men 
really  superior  to  their  fellows,  and 
especially  of  the  saints,  far  from  ceas- 
ing with  his  life,  went  on  increasing 
after  his  death.  The  supernatural  character  of  his 
virtues,  the  miracles  which  were  attributed  to  his 
intercession  with  God,  had  for  a long  time  left 
scarcely  any  doubt  as  to  his  sanctity.  It  was  univer- 
sally acknowledged  after  his  death,  and  has  since 
remained  uncontested  among  all  the  Celtic  races. 
The  visions  and  miracles  which  went  to  prove 
it  would  fill  a volume.  On  the  night,  and  at  the 
very  hour,  of  his  death,  a holy  old  man  in  a distant 
monastery  in  Ireland,  one  of  those  whom  the  Cel- 
tic chroniclers  call  the  victorious  soldiers  of  Christ, 
saw  with  the  eyes  of  his  mind  the  isle  of  Iona, 
which  he  had  never  visited,  flooded  with  miracu- 
lous light,  and  all  the  vault  of  heaven  full  of  an 


How  regarded  after  Death.  139 

innumerable  army  of  shining  angels,  who  went, 
singing  celestial  canticles,  to  bring  away  the  holy 
soul  of  the  great  missionary.  Upon  the  banks  of  a 
river,  in  Columba’s  native  kind,  another  holy  monk, 
while  occupied  with  several  others  in  fishing,  saw, 
as  also  did  his  companions,  the  sky  lighted  up  by 
a pillar  of  fire,  which  rose  from  earth  to  the  highest 
heaven,  and  disappeared  only  after  lighting  up  the 
whole  scene  with  a radiance  as  of  the  sun  at  noon. 

Thus  began  the  long  succession  of  wonders  by 
which  the  worship  of  Columba’s  holy  memory  is 
characterised  among  the  Celtic  races.  This  wor 
ship,  which  seemed  at  one  time  concentrated  in  one 
of  the  smallest  islets  of  the  Atlantic,  extended  in 
less  than  a century  after  his  death,  not  only  through- 
out all  Ireland  and  Great  Britain,  but  into  Gaul, 
Spain,  and  Italy,  and  even  to  Rome,  which  some 
legends,  insufficiently  verified,  describe  him  as  hav- 
ing visited  during  the  last  years  of  his  life,  in  order 
to  renew  the  bonds  of  respectful  affection  and 
spiritual  union  which  are  supposed  to  have  united 
him  to  the  great  pope  St  Gregory,  who  ascended 
the  pontifical  throne  seven  years  before  the  death 
of  the  Hebridean  apostle. 

It  was  expected  that  all  the  population  of  the 
neighbouring  districts  would  hasten  to  Iona  and 
fill  the  island  during  the  funeral  of  the  great  abbot  3 
and  this  had  even  been  intimated  to  him  before  he 
died.  But  he  had  prophesied  that  the  fact  would 
be  otherwise,  and  that  his  monastic  family  alone 


140  His  Burial ’ 

should  perform  the  ceremonies  of  his  burial.  And 
it  happened,  accordingly,  during  the  three  days 
which  were  occupied  with  those  rites,  that  a violent 
wind  made  it  impossible  for  any  boat  to  reach  the 
island.  Thus  this  friend  and  counsellor  of  princes 
and  nations,  this  great  traveller,  this  apostle  of  an 
entire  nation  which,  during  a thousand  years,  was 
to  honour  him  as  its  patron  saint,  lay  solitary  upon 
his  bier,  in  the  little  church  of  his  island  retire- 
ment; and  his  burial  was  witnessed  only  by  his 
monks.  But  his  grave,  though  it  was  not  dug  in 
presence  of  an  enthusiastic  crowd,  as  had  been 
looked  for,  was  not  the  less  visited  and  surrounded 
by  floods  of  successive  generations,  who  for  more 
than  two  hundred  years  crowded  there  to  venerate 
the  relics  of  the  holy  missionary,  and  to  drink  the 
pure  waters  of  his  doctrine  and  example  at  the 
fountainhead. 

The  remains  of  Columba  rested  here  in  peace 
up  to  the  ninth  century,  until  the  moment  when 
Iona,  like  all  the  British  isles,  fell  a prey  to  the 
ravages  of  the  Danes.  These  cruel  and  insatiable 
pirates  seem  to  have  been  attracted  again  and  again 
by  the  wealth  of  the  offerings  that  were  lavished 
upon  the  tomb  of  the  apostle  of  Caledonia.  They 
burnt  the  monastery  for  the  first  time  in  801  • 
again  in  805,  when  it  contained  only  so  small  a 
number  as  sixty-four  monks ; and  finally,  a third 
time,  in  877.  To  save  from  their  rapacity  a trea- 
sure which  no  pious  liberality  could  replace,  the 


His  Body  removed  to  Ireland.  141 

body  of  St  Columba  was  carried  to  Ireland.  And 
it  is  the  unvarying  tradition  of  Irish  annals  that 
it  was  deposited  finally  at  Down,  in  an  episcopal 
monastery  not  far  from  the  western  shore  of  the 
island,  between  the  great  Monastery  of  Bangor  on 
the  north,  from  which  came  Columbanus  of  Luxeuil, 
and  Dublin,  the  future  capital  of  Ireland,  to  the 
south.  There  already  lay  the  relics  of  Patrick  and 
of  Bridget ; and  thus  was  verified  one  of  the  pro- 
phecies in  Irish  verse  attributed  to  Columba,  in 
which  he  says — 

4 4 They  shall  bury  me  first  at  Iona  ; 

But,  by  the  will  of  the  living  God, 

It  is  at  Dun  that  I shall  rest  in  my  grave, 

With  Patrick  and  with  Bridget  the  immaculate. 

Three  bodies  in  one  grave.” 

The  three  names  have  remained  since  that  time 
inseparably  united  in  the  dauntless  heart  and  fer- 
vent tenacious  memory  of  the  Irish  people.  It  is 
to  Columba  that  the  oppressed  and  impoverished 
Irish  seem  to  have  appealed  with  the  greatest  con- 
fidence in  the  first  English  conquest  in  the  twelfth 
century.  The  conquerors  themselves  feared  him, 
not  without  reason,  for  they  had  learned  to  know 
his  vengeance.  John  de  Courcy,  a warlike  Anglo- 
Norman  baron,  he  who  was  called  the  Conqueror 
( Conquestor)  of  Ulster,  as  William  of  Normandy 
of  England,  carried  always  with  him  the  volume 
of  Columba’s  prophecies ; and  when  the  bodies  of 
the  three  saints  were  found  in  his  new  possessions 


142 


Posthumous  Miracles. 


in  1180,  he  prayed  the  Holy  See  to  celebrate  their 
translation  by  the  appointment  of  a solemn  festival. 
Richard  Strongbow,  the  famous  Earl  of  Pembroke, 
who  had  been  the  first  chief  of  the  invasion,  died 
of  an  ulcer  in  the  foot,  which  had  been  inflicted 
upon  him,  according  to  the  Irish  narrative,  at  the 
prayer  of  St  Bridget,  St  Columba,  and  other  saints, 
whose  churches  he  had  destroyed.  He  himself 
said,  when  at  the  point  of  death,  that  he  saw  the 
sweet  and  noble  Bridget  lift  her  arm  to  pierce  him 
to  the  heart.  Hugh  de  Lacy,  another  Anglo-Nor- 
man chief  of  great  lineage,  perished  at  Durrow, 
“by  the  vengeance  of  Cohimb-cille,”  says  a chron- 
icler, while  he  was  engaged  in  building  a castle 
to  the  injury  of  the  abbey  which  Columba  had 
founded,  and  loved  so  much.  A century  after,  this 
vengeance  was  still  popularly  dreaded;  and  some 
English  pirates,  who  had  pillaged  his  church  in  the 
island  of  Inchcolm,  having  sunk  like  lead  in  sight 
of  land,  their  countrymen  said  that  he  should  be 
called,  not  St  Columba,  but  St  Quhalme * — that  is 
to  say,  the  Saint  of  Sudden  Death. 

A nation  has  special  need  to  believe  in  these 
vengeances  of  God,  always  so  tardy  and  infrequent, 
and  which,  in  Ireland,  above  all,  have  scarcely  suf- 
ficed to  light  with  a fugitive  gleam  the  long  night 
of  the  conquest,  with  all  its  iniquities  and  crimes. 
Happy  are  the  people  among  whom  the  everlasting 

* Quhalme  in  Anglo-Saxon  meant  sudden  death,  from 
whence  the  modern  English  word  qualm. 


Iona  the  Royal  Burial-place . 143 

justice  of  the  appeal  against  falsehood  and  evil  is 
placed  under  the  shadow  of  God  and  the  saints ; 
and  blessed  also  the  saints  who  have  left  to  pos- 
terity the  memory  of  their  indignation  against  all 
injustice. 

As  long  as  the  body  of  Columba  remained  in  his 
island  grave,  Iona,  consecrated  henceforward  by 
the  life  and  death  of  so  great  a Christian,  continued 
to  be  the  most  venerated  sanctuary  of  the  Celts. 
For  two  centuries  she  was  the  nursery  of  bishops, 
the  centre  of  education,  the  asylum  of  religious 
knowledge,  the  point  of  union  among  the  British 
Isles,  the  capital  and  necropolis  of  the  Celtic  race. 
Seventy  kings  or  princes  were  buried  there  at  the 
feet  of  Columba,  faithful  to  a kind  of  traditional 
law,  the  recollection  of  which  has  been  consecrated 
by  Shakespeare.*  During  these  two  centuries  she 
retained  an  uncontested  supremacy  over  all  the 
monasteries  and  churches  of  Caledonia,  as  over 
those  of  half  Ireland ; and  we  shall  hereafter  see 
how  she  disputed  with  the  Roman  missionaries 
the  authority  over  the  Anglo-Saxons  of  the  North. 
Later  still,  if  we  are  permitted  to  follow  this  narra- 
tive so  far,  at  the  end  of  the  eleventh  century,  we 
shall  see  her  ruins  raised  up  and  restored  to  monas- 
tic life  by  one  of  the  most  noble  and  touching 

* “ Rosse.  Where  is  Duncan’s  body? 

Macduff.  Carried  to  Colmes-Kill, 

The  sacred  storehouse  of  his  predecessors, 

And  guardian  of  their  bones.” 

Shakespeare,  Macbeth. 


144  The  Abbots  of  Iona . 

heroines  of  Scotland  and  Christendom,  the  holy 
Queen  Margaret,  the  gentle  and  noble  exile,  so 
beautiful,  so  wise,  so  magnanimous  and  beloved, 
who  used  her  influence  over  Malcolm  her  husband 
only  for  the  regeneration  of  the  Church  in  his  king- 
dom, and  whose  dear  memory  is  worthy  of  being 
associated  in  the  heart  of  the  Scottish  people  with 
that  of  Columba,  since  she  obtained  by  his  inter- 
cession that  grace  of  maternity  which  has  made 
her  the  origin  of  the  dynasty  which  still  reigns  over 
the  British  Isles. 

Let  us  here  reconsider  the  privilege  which  gave 
to  the  abbots  of  Iona  a sort  of  jurisdiction  over  the 
bishops  of  the  neighbouring  districts — a privilege 
unique,  and  which  would  even  appear  fabulous,  if 
it  were  not  attested  by  two  of  the  most  trustworthy 
historians  of  the  time,  the  Venerable  Bede  and 
Notker  of  St  Gall.  In  order  to  explain  this  strange 
anomaly,  it  must  be  understood  that  in  Celtic  coun- 
tries, especially  in  Ireland  and  in  Scotland,  eccle- 
siastical organisation  rested,  in  the  first  place, 
solely  upon  conventual  life.  Dioceses  and  par- 
ishes were  regularly  constituted  only  in  the  twelfth 
century.  Bishops,  it  is  true,  existed  from  the  be- 
ginning, but  either  without  any  clearly  fixed  terri- 
torial jurisdiction,  or  incorporated  as  a necessary 
but  subordinate  part  of  the  ecclesiastical  machinery 
with  the  great  monastic  bodies ; and  such  was  spe- 
cially the  case  in  Ireland.  It  is  for  this  reason  that 
the  bishops  of  the  Celtic  Church,  as  has  been  often 


Celtic  Bishops  and  Abbots . 145 

remarked,  are  so  much  overshadowed  not  only  by 
great  founders  and  superiors  of  monasteries,  such 
as  Columba,  but  even  by  simple  abbots.  Never- 
theless, it  is  evident  that  during  the  life  of  Columba, 
far  from  assuming  any  superiority  whatever  over  the 
bishops  who  were  his  contemporaries,  he  showed 
them  the  utmost  respect,  even  to  such  a point  that 
he  would  not  celebrate  mass  in  the  presence  of  a 
bishop  who  had  come,  humbly  disguised  as  a simple 
convert,  to  visit  the  community  of  Iona.  At  the 
same  time  the  abbots  scrupulously  abstained  from 
all  usurpation  of  the  rank,  privileges,  or  functions 
reserved  to  bishops,  to  whom  they  had  recourse  for 
all  the  ordinations  celebrated  in  the  monasteries. 
But  as  most  of  the  bishops  had  been  educated  in 
monastic  schools,  they  retained  an  affectionate 
veneration  for  their  cradle,  which,  in  regard  to 
Iona  especially,  from  which  we  shall  see  so  many 
bishops  issue,  might  have  translated  itself  into  a 
sort  of  prolonged  submission  to  the  conventual 
authority  of  their  former  superior.  Five  centuries 
later  the  bishops  who  came  from  the  great  French 
abbeys  of  Cluny  and  Citeaux  took  pleasure  in  pro- 
fessing the  same  filial  subordination  to  their  monas- 
tic birthplace. 

The  uncontested  primacy  of  Iona  over  the 
bishops  who  had  there  professed  religion,  or  who 
came  there  to  be  consecrated  after  their  election, 
may  be  besides  explained  by  the  influence  exer- 
cised by  Columba  over  both  clergy  and  people 

K 


146  The  Rule  of  Columb-kill. 

of  the  districts  evangelised  by  him — an  influence 
which  was  only  increased  by  his  death. 

Did  the  great  abbot  of  Iona,  like  his  namesake 
of  Luxeuil,  leave  to  his  disciples  a monastic  rule 
of  his  own,  distinct  from  that  of  other  Celtic  monas- 
teries ? This  has  been  often  asserted,  but  without 
positive  proof — and  in  any  case  no  authentic  text 
of  such  a document  exists.  That  which  bears  the 
name  of  the  Rule  of  Columb-kill ' and  which  has 
been  sometimes  attributed  to  him,  has  no  reference 
in  any  way  to  the  cenobites  of  Iona,  and  is  only 
applicable  to  hermits  or  recluses,  who  lived  perhaps 
under  his  authority,  but  isolated,  and  who  were 
always  very  numerous  in  Ireland. 

A conscientious  and  attentive  examination  of  all 
the  monastic  peculiarities  which  can  be  discovered 
in  his  biography  reveals  absolutely  nothing  in  re- 
spect to  observances  or  obligations  different  from 
the  rules  borrowed  by  all  the  religious  communi- 
ties of  the  sixth  century  from  the  traditions  of  the 
Fathers  of  the  Desert.  Such  an  examination 
brings  out  distinctly,  in  the  first  place,  the  necessity 
for  a vow  or  solemn  profession  to  prove  the  final 
admission  of  the  monk  into  the  community  after 
a probation  more  or  less  prolonged;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  the  absolute  conformity  of  the  mon- 
astic life  of  Columba  and  his  monks  to  the  pre- 
cepts and  rites  of  the  Catholic  Church  in  all  ages. 
Authorities  unquestionable  and  unquestioned  de- 
monstrate the  existence  of  auricular  confession,  the 


This  not  a Monastic  one.  147 

invocation  of  saints,  the  universal  faith  in  their 
protection  and  intervention  in  temporal  affairs,  the 
celebration  of  the  mass,  the  real  presence  in  the 
Eucharist,  ecclesiastical  celibacy,  fasts  and  abstin- 
ences, prayer  for  the  dead,  the  sign  of  the  cross, 
and,  above  all,  the  assiduous  and  profound  study 
of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Thus  the  assumption 
made  by  certain  writers  of  having  found  in  the 
Celtic  Church  some  sort  of  primitive  Christianity 
not  Catholic,  crumbles  to  the  dust ; and  the  ridi- 
culous but  inveterate  prejudice  which  accuses  our 
fathers  of  having  ignored  or  interdicted  the  study 
of  the  Bible  is  once  again  proved  to  be  without 
foundation. 

As  to  the  customs  peculiar  to  the  Irish  Church, 
and  which  were  afterwards  the  cause  of  so  many 
tedious  struggles  with  the  Roman  and  Anglo-Saxon 
missionaries,  no  trace  of  them  is  to  be  discovered 
in  the  acts  or  words  of  Columba.  There  is  no 
mention  of  the  tiresome  disputes  about  the  tonsure, 
or  even  of  the  irregular  celebration  of  Easter,  ex- 
cept perhaps  in  a prophecy  vaguely  made  by  him 
on  the  occasion  of  a visit  to  Clonmacnoise,  upon 
the  discords  which  this  difference  of  opinion  in 
respect  to  Easter  would  one  day  excite  in  the 
Scotic  Church. 

If  Columba  made  no  rule  calculated,  like  that  of 
St  Benedict,  to  last  for  centuries,  he  nevertheless 
left  to  his  disciples  a spirit  of  life,  of  union,  and  of 
discipline,  which  was  sufficient  to  maintain  in  one 


148  The  Monks  of  Iona . 

great  body,  for  several  centuries  after  his  death, 
not  only  the  monks  of  Iona,  but  the  numerous 
communities  which  had  gathered  round  them. 
This  monastic  body  bore  a noble  name ; it  was 
long  called  the  Order  of  the  Fair  Company,  and 
still  longer  the  Family  of  Columb-kill.  It  was 
governed  by  abbots,  who  succeeded  Columba  as 
superiors  of  the  community  of  Iona.  These  abbots 
proved  themselves  worthy  of,  and  obtained  from 
Bede,  one  of  the  most  competent  of  judges,  who 
began  to  write  a hundred  years  after  the  death  of 
Columba,  a tribute  of  admiration  without  reserve, 
and  even  more  striking  than  that  which  he  gave  to 
their  founder : — “ Whatever  he  may  have  been,” 
said  the  Venerable  Bede,  with  a certain  shadow  of 
Anglo-Saxon  suspicion  in  respect  to  Celtic  virtue 
and  sanctity,  “ it  is  undeniable  that  he  has  left 
successors  illustrious  by  the  purity  of  their  life, 
their  great  love  of  God,  and  their  zeal  for  monastic 
order;  and,  although  separated  from  us  as  to  the 
observance  of  Easter,  which  is  caused  by  their  dis- 
tance from  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  ardently  and 
closely  devoted  to  the  observance  of  those  laws  of 
piety  and  chastity  which  they  have  learned  in  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments.”  These  praises  are  justi- 
fied by  the  great  number  of  saints  who  have  issued 
from  the  spiritual  lineage  of  Columba;  but  they 
should  be  specially  applied  to  his  successors  in 
the  abbatial  see  of  Iona,  and,  in  the  first  place,  to 
his  first  successor,  whom  he  had  himself  pointed 


Celtic  Monasticism.  149 

out,  the  holy  and  amiable  Baithen,  who  was  so 
worthy  to  be  his  lieutenant  and  friend,  and  could 
so  well  replace  him.  He  survived  Columba  only 
three  years,  and  died  on  the  anniversary  of  his 
master’s  death.  The  cruel  sufferings  of  his  last 
illness  did  not  prevent  him  from  praying,  writing, 
and  teaching  to  his  last  hour.  Baithen  was,  as  has 
been  said,  the  cousin-german  of  Columba,  and 
almost  all  the  abbots  of  Iona  who  succeeded  him 
were  of  the  same  race. 

The  family  spirit,  or,  to  speak  more  truly,  the 
clan  spirit,  always  so  powerful  and  active  in  Ire- 
land, and  which  was  so  striking  a feature  in  the 
character  of  Columba,  had  become  a predominat- 
ing influence  in  the  monastic  life  of  the  Celtic 
Church.  It  was  not  precisely  hereditary  succes- 
sion, since  marriage  was  absolutely  unknown  among 
the  regular  clergy ; but  great  influence  was  given 
to  blood  in  the  election  of  abbots,  as  in  that  of 
princes  or  military  leaders.  The  nephew  or  cousin 
of  the  founder  or  superior  of  a monastery  seemed 
the  candidate  pointed  out  by  nature  for  the  vacant 
dignity.  Special  reasons  were  necessary  for  break- 
ing through  this  rule.  Thus  it  is  apparent  that 
the  eleven  first  abbots  of  Iona  after  Columba,  pro- 
ceeded, with  the  exception  of  one  individual,  from 
the  same  stock  as  himself,  from  the  race  of  Tyr- 
connel,  and  were  all  descended  from  the  same  son 
of  Niall  of  the  Nine  Hostages,  the  famous  king  of 
all  Ireland.  Every  great  monastery  became  thus 


150  Monastic  Irregularities . 

the  centre  and  appanage  of  a family,  or,  to  speak 
more  exactly,  of  a clan,  and  was  alike  the  school 
and  the  asylum  of  all  the  founder’s  kindred.  At  a 
later  period  a kind  of  succession,  purely  laic  and 
hereditary,  developed  itself  by  the  side  of  the 
spiritual  posterity,  and  was  invested  with  the  pos- 
session of  most  of  the  monastic  domains.  These 
two  lines  of  descendants,  simultaneous  but  distinct, 
from  the  principal  monastic  founders,  are  distin- 
guished in  the  historical  genealogies  of  Ireland 
under  the  names  of  ecclesiastica  progenies  and  of 
i)lebilis  progenies.  After  the  ninth  century,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  relaxation  of  discipline,  the  inva- 
sion of  married  clerks,  and  the  increasing  value  of 
land,  the  line  of  spiritual  descent  confounded  itself 
more  and  more  with  that  of  natural  inheritance, 
and  there  arose  a crowd  of  abbots  purely  lay  and 
hereditary,  as  proud  of  being  the  collateral  descend- 
ants of  a holy  founder,  as  they  were  happy  to 
possess  the  vast  domains  with  which  the  founda- 
tion had  been  gradually  enriched.  This  fatal  abuse 
made  its  appearance  also  in  France  and  Germany, 
but  was  less  inveterate  than  in  Ireland,  where  it  still 
existed  in  the  time  of  St  Bernard ; and  in  Scotland, 
where  it  lasted  even  after  the  Reformation. 

It  was  never  thus  at  Iona,  where  the  abbatical 
succession  was  always  perfectly  regular  and  unin- 
terrupted up  to  the  invasions  and  devastations  of 
the  Danes  at  the  commencement  of  the  eighth  cen- 
tury. From  the  time  of  those  invasions  the  abbots 


Influence  of  St  Columba.  1 5 1 

of  Iona  began  to  occupy  an  inferior  position.  The 
radiant  centre  from  which  Christian  civilisation 
had  shone  upon  the  British  Isles  grew  dim.  The 
headquarters  of  the  communities  united  under  the 
title  of  the  Family  or  Order  of  Columb-kill , were 
transferred  from  Iona  to  one  of  the  other  founda- 
tions of  the  saint  at  Kells,  in  the  centre  of  Ireland, 
where  a successor  of  Columba,  superior-general  of 
the  order,  titulary  abbot  of  Iona,  Armagh,  or  some 
other  great  Irish  monastery,  and  bearing  the  dis- 
tinctive title  of  Coarfr,  resided  for  three  centuries 
more. 

We  have  lingered  too  long  over  the  great  and 
touching  figure  of  the  saint  whose  life  we  have  just 
recorded;  and  it  now  remains  to  us  to  throwT  a 
rapid  glance  at  the  influence  which  he  exercised  on 
all  around  him,  and  even  upon  posterity. 

This  influence  is  especially  evident  in  the  Irish 
Church,  which  seems  to  have  been  entirely  swayed 
by  his  spirit,  his  successors,  and  his  disciples,  dur- 
ing the  time  which  is  looked  upon  as  the  Golden 
Age  in  its  history,  and  which  extends  up  to  the 
period  of  the  Danish  invasions,  at  the  end  of  the 
eighth  century.  During  all  this  time  the  Irish 
Church,  which  continued,  as  from  its  origin,  en- 
tirely monastic,  seems  to  have  been  governed  by 
the  recollections  or  institutions  of  Columba.  The 
words  Lex  Columbcille  are  found  on  many  pages  of 
its  confused  annals,  and  indicate  sometimes  the 
mass  of  traditions  preserved  by  its  monasteries. 


152  Position  of  the  Irish  Church . 

sometimes  the  tributes  which  the  kings  levied  for 
the  defence  of  the  Church  and  country,  while  carry- 
ing through  all  Ireland  the  shrine  which  contained 
his  relics.  The  continued  influence  of  the  great 
abbot  of  Iona  was  so  marked,  even  in  temporal 
affairs,  that  more  than  two  centuries  after  his  death, 
in  817,  the  monks  of  his  order,  Congregatio  Columb- 
cille , went  solemnly  to  Tara,  the  ancient  capital 
of  Druidical  Ireland,  to  excommunicate  there  the 
supreme  monarch  of  the  island,  who  had  assassi- 
nated a prince  of  the  family  of  their  holy  chief. 

It  has  been  said,  and  cannot  be  sufficiently  re- 
peated, that  Ireland  was  then  regarded  by  all 
Christian  Europe  as  the  principal  centre  of  know- 
ledge and  piety.  In  the  shelter  of  its  numberless 
monasteries  a crowd  of  missionaries,  doctors,  and 
preachers  were  educated  for  the  service  of  the 
Church  and  the  propagation  of  the  faith  in  all 
Christian  countries.  A vast  and  continual  develop- 
ment of  literary  and  religious  effort  is  there  ap- 
parent, superior  to  anything  that  could  be  seen  in 
any  other  country  of  Europe.  Certain  arts — those 
of  architecture,  carving,  metallurgy,  as  applied  to 
the  decoration  of  churches  — were  successfully 
cultivated,  without  speaking  of  music,  which  con- 
tinued to  flourish  both  among  the  learned  and 
among  the  people.  The  classic  languages  — not 
only  Latin,  but  Greek — were  cultivated,  spoken, 
and  written  with  a sort  of  passionate  pedantry, 
which  shows  at  least  how  powerful  was  the  sway 


Enthusiasm  for  Learning.  153 

of  intellectual  influences  over  these  ardent  souls. 
Their  mania  for  Greek  was  even  carried  so  far 
that  they  wrote  the  Latin  of  the  church  books  in 
Hellenic  characters.  And  in  Ireland  more  than 
anywhere  else,  each  monastery  was  a school,  and 
each  school  a workshop  of  transcription,  from 
which  day  by  day  issued  new  copies  of  the  Holy 
Scriptures  and  the  Fathers  of  the  primitive  Church 
— copies  which  were  dispersed  through  all  Europe, 
and  which  are  still  to  be  found  in  Continental 
libraries.  They  may  easily  be  recognised  by  the 
original  and  elegant  character  of  their  Irish  writing, 
as  also  by  the  use  of  the  alphabet  common  to  all 
the  Celtic  races,  and  afterwards  employed  by  the 
Anglo-Saxons,  but  to  which  in  our  day  the  Irish 
alone  have  remained  faithful.  Columba,  as  has 
been  seen,  had  given  an  example  of  this  unwearied 
labour  to  the  monastic  scribes ; his  example  was 
continually  followed  in  the  Irish  cloisters,  where  the 
monks  did  not  entirely  limit  themselves  to  the  tran- 
scription of  Holy  Scripture,  but  reproduced  also 
Greek  and  Latin  authors,  sometimes  in  Celtic  char- 
acter, with  gloss  and  commentary  in  Irish,  like  that 
Horace  which  modern  learning  has  discovered  in  the 
library  of  Berne.  These  marvellous  manuscripts, 
illuminated  with  incomparable  ability  and  patience 
by  the  monastic  family  of  Columba,  excited,  five 
hundred  years  later,  the  declamatory  enthusiasm 
of  a great  enemy  of  Ireland,  the  Anglo-Norman 
historian,  Gerald  de  Barry ; and  they  still  attract 


154  The  Annals  of  the  Saints . 

the  attention  of  archaeologists  and  philologists  of 
the  highest  fame. 

Exact  annals  of  the  events  of  the  time  were  also 
made  out  in  all  the  monasteries.  These  annals  re- 
placed the  chronicles  of  the  bards ; and  so  far  as 
they  have  been  preserved,  and  already  published  or 
about  to  be  so,  they  now  form  the  principal  source 
of  Irish  history.  Ecclesiastical  records  have  natu- 
rally a greater  place  in  them  than  civil  history. 
They  celebrate  especially  the  memory  of  the  saints, 
who  have  always  been  so  numerous  in  the  Irish 
Church,  where  each  of  the  great  communities  can 
count  a circle  of  holy  men,  issued  from  its  bosom 
or  attached  to  its  confraternity.  Under  the  name 
of  sanctilogy  or  festilogy  (for  martyrs  were  too  little 
known  in  Ireland  to  justify  the  usual  term  of 
martyrology),  this  circle  of  biographies  was  the 
spiritual  reading  of  the  monks,  and  the  familiar 
instruction  of  the  surrounding  people.  Several  of 
these  festilogies  are  in  verse,  one  of  which,  the 
most  famous  of  all,  is  attributed  to  Angus,  called 
the  Culdee , a simple  brother,  miller  of  the  Monas- 
tery of  Tallach.  In  this  the  principal  saints  of 
other  countries  find  a place  along  with  three  hun- 
dred and  sixty-five  Irish  saints,  one  for  each  day 
of  the  year,  who  are  all  celebrated  with  that  pious 
and  patriotic  enthusiasm,  at  once  poetical  and 
moral,  which  burns  so  naturally  in  every  Irish 
heart. 

The  name  of  Culdee  leads  us  to  point  out  in 


The  Culdees . 


155 


passing  the  absurd  and  widespread  error  which  has 
made  the  Culdees  be  looked  upon  as  a kind  of 
monkish  order,  married  and  indigenous  to  the  soil, 
which  existed  before  the  introduction  of  Christian- 
ity into  Ireland  and  Scotland  by  the  Roman  mis- 
sionaries, and  of  whom  the  great  abbot  of  Iona  was 
the  founder  or  chief.  This  opinion,  propagated  by 
learned  Anglicans,  and  blindly  copied  by  various 
French  writers,  is  now  universally  acknowledged  as 
false  by  sincere  and  competent  judges.  The  Cul- 
dees, a sort  of  third  order,  attached  to  the  regular 
monasteries,  appeared  in  Ireland,  as  elsewhere, 
only  in  the  ninth  century,  and  had  never  anything 
more  than  a trifling  connection  with  the  Columban 
communities. 

Still  more  striking  than  the  intellectual  develop- 
ment of  which  the  Irish  monasteries  were  at  this 
period  the  centre,  is  the  prodigious  activity  dis- 
played by  the  Irish  monks  in  extending  and  multi- 
plying themselves  over  all  the  countries  of  Europe 
— here  to  create  new  schools  and  sanctuaries  among 
nations  already  evangelised — there  to  carry  the 
light  of  the  Gospel,  at  peril  of  their  lives,  to  the 
countries  that  were  still  pagan.  We  should  run 
the  risk  of  forestalling  our  future  task  if  we  did  not 
resist  the  temptations  of  the  subject,  which  would 
lead  us  to  go  faster  than  time,  and  to  follow  those 
armies  of  brave  and  untiring  Celts,  always  adven- 
turous and  often  heroic,  into  the  regions  where  we 
shall  perhaps  one  day  find  them  again.  Let  us 


156  Irish  Monasteries  and  Saints . 


content  ourselves  with  a simple  list,  which  has  a 
certain  eloquence  even  in  the  dryness  of  its  figures. 
Here  is  the  number,  probably  very  incomplete, 
given  by  an  ancient  writer,  of  the  monasteries 
founded  out  of  Ireland  by  Irish  monks,  led  far 
from  their  country  by  the  love  of  souls,  and,  no 
doubt,  a little  also  by  that  love  of  travel  which  has 
always  been  one  of  their  special  distinctions  : — 

Thirteen  in  Scotland, 

Twelve  in  England, 

Seven  in  France, 

Twelve  in" Armorica, 

Seven  in  Lorraine, 

Ten  in  Alsatia, 

Sixteen  in  Bavaria, 

Fifteen  in  Rhaetia,  Helvetia,  and  Allemania ; 

without  counting  many  in  Thuringia  and  upon  the 
left  bank  of  the  Lower  Rhine ; and,  finally,  six  in 
Italy. 

And  that  it  may  be  fully  apparent  how  great 
was  the  zeal  and  virtue  of  which  those  monastic 
colonies  were  at  once  the  product  and  the  centre, 
let  us  place  by  its  side  an  analogous  list  of  saints 
of  Irish  origin,  whom  the  gratitude  of  nations  con- 
verted, edified,  and  civilised  by  them,  have  placed 
upon  their  altars  as  patrons  and  founders  of  those 
churches  whose  foundations  they  watered  with  their 
blood  : — 

A hundred  and  fifty  (of  whom  thirty-six  were  martyrs) 
in  Germany, 

Forty-five  (of  whom  six  were  martyrs)  in  Gaul, 


San  Cataldo . 


157 


Thirty  in  Belgium, 

Thirteen  in  Italy, 

Eight,  all  martyrs,  in  Norway  and  Iceland. 

In  the  after  part  of  this  narrative  we  shall  meet 
many  of  the  most  illustrious,  especially  in  Ger- 
many. Let  us  confine  ourselves  here  to  point- 
ing out,  among  the  thirteen  Irish  saints  honoured 
with  public  veneration  in  Italy,  him  who  is  still 
invoked  at  the  extremity  of  the  peninsula  as 
the  patron  of  Tarento  under  the  name  of  San 
Cataldo. 

His  name  in  Ireland  was  Cathal,  and  before  he 
left  his  country  to  go  on  a pilgrimage  to  Jerusalem, 
and  to  become  a bishop  at  Tarento,  he  had  presided 
over  the  great  monastic  school  of  Lismore,  in  the 
south  of  Ireland.  Thanks  to  his  zeal  and  know- 
ledge, this  school  had  become  a sort  of  university, 
to  which  he  attracted  an  immense  crowd  of  stu- 
dents, not  only  Irish,  but  foreigners,  from  Wales, 
England,  France,  and  even  from  Germany.  When 
their  education  was  concluded,  a portion  of  them 
remained  to  increase  the  already  numerous  commu- 
nities in  the  holy  and  lettered  city  of  Lismore  ; the 
others  carried  back  with  them  to  their  different 
countries  a recollection  of  the  advantages  which 
they  owed  to  Ireland  and  her  monks.  For  it  is 
important  to  prove  that,  while  Ireland  sent  forth 
her  sons  into  all  the  regions  of  the  then  known 
world,  numberless  strangers  hastened  there  to  seat 
themselves  at  the  feet  of  her  doctors,  and  to  find 


158  Monastic  Hospitality . 

in  that  vast  centre  of  faith  and  knowledge  all  the 
remnants  of  ancient  civilisation  which  her  insular 
position  had  permitted  her  to  save  from  the  flood 
of  barbarous  invasions. 

The  monasteries  which  gradually  covered  the 
soil  of  Ireland  were  thus  the  hostelries  of  a foreign 
emigration.  Unlike  the  ancient  Druidical  colleges, 
they  were  open  to  all.  The  poor  and  the  rich,  the 
slave  as  well  as  the  freeman,  the  child  and  the  old 
man,  had  free  access  and  paid  nothing.  It  was 
not,  then,  only  to  the  natives  of  Ireland  that  the 
Irish  monasteries,  occupied  and  ruled  by  the  sons 
of  Columba,  confined  the  benefits  of  knowledge  and 
of  literary  and  religious  education.  They  opened 
their  door  with  admirable  generosity  to  strangers 
from  every  country  and  of  every  condition ; above 
all,  to  those  who  came  from  the  neighbouring 
island,  England,  some  to  end  their  lives  in  an  Irish 
cloister,  some  to  search  from  house  to  house  for 
books,  and  masters  capable  of  explaining  those 
books.  The  Irish  monks  received  with  kindness 
guests  so  greedy  of  instruction,  and  gave  them  both 
books  and  masters,  the  food  of  the  body  and  the 
food  of  the  soul,  without  demanding  any  recom- 
pense. The  Anglo-Saxons,  who  were  afterwards 
to  repay  this  teaching  with  ingratitude  so  cruel, 
were  of  all  nations  the  one  which  derived  most 
profit  from  it.  From  the  seventh  to  the  eleventh 
century  English  students  flocked  into  Ireland,  and 
for  four  hundred  years  the  monastic  schools  of 


Social  State  of  Ireland \ 159 

the  island  maintained  the  great  reputation  which 
brought  so  many  successive  generations  to  dip 
deeply  there  into  the  living  waters  of  knowledge 
and  of  faith. 

This  devotion  to  knowledge  and  generous  muni- 
ficence towards  strangers,  this  studious  and  intel- 
lectual life,  nourished  into  being  by  the  sheltering 
warmth  of  faith,  shone  with  all  the  more  brightness 
amid  the  horrible  confusion  and  bloody  disasters 
which  signalise,  in  so  far  as  concerned  temporal 
affairs,  the  Golden  Age  of  ecclesiastical  history  in 
Ireland,  even  before  the  sanguinary  invasions  of 
the  Danes  at  the  end  of  the  eighth  century.  It  has 
been  said  with  justice  that  war  and  religion  have 
been  in  all  ages  the  two  great  passions  of  Ireland. 
But  it  must  be  allowed  that  war  seems  almost 
always  to  have  carried  the  day  over  religion,  and 
that  religion  did  not  prevent  war  from  degenerat- 
ing too  often  into  massacres  and  assassinations. 
It  is  true  that  after  the  eighth  century  there  are 
fewer  kings  murdered  by  their  successors  than  in 
the  period  between  St  Patrick  and  St  Columba ; it 
is  true  that  three  or  four  of  these  kings  lived  long 
enough  to  have  the  time  to  go  and  expiate  their 
sins  as  monks  at  Armagh  or  Iona.  But  it  is  not 
less  true  that  the  annals  of  the  monastic  family  of 
Columba  present  to  us  at  each  line  with  mournful 
laconism  a spectacle  which  absolutely  contradicts 
the  flattering  pictures  which  have  been  drawn  of 
the  peace  which  Ireland  should  have  enjoyed.  Al- 


160  Social  State  of  Ireland . 


most  every  year,  such  words  as  the  following  are 
repeated  with  cruel  brevity  : — 

Bellum. 

Bellum  lacrymabile. 

Bellum  magnum. 

Vastatio. 

Spoliatio. 

Violatio. 

Obsessio. 

Strages  magna. 

yugulatio. 

And  above  all,  Jugulatio.  It  is  the  word  which 
returns  oftenest,  and  in  which  seems  to  be  sum- 
med up  the  destiny  of  those  unhappy  princes  and 
people. 

Such  an  enumeration  should  give  rise  to  the  re- 
flection, what  this  wild  tree  of  Celtic  nature  would 
have  been  without  the  monastic  graft.  We  can 
thus  perceive  with  what  ferocious  natures  Columba 
and  his  disciples  had  to  do.  If,  notwithstanding 
the  preaching  of  the  monks,  a state  of  affairs  so 
barbarous  continued  to  exist,  what  might  it  have 
been  had  the  Gospel  never  been  preached  to  those 
savages,  and  if  the  monks  had  not  been  in  the 
midst  of  them  like  a permanent  incarnation  of  the 
Spirit  of  God  ? 

The  monks  were  at  the  same  time  neither  less 
inactive  nor  more  spared  than  the  women,  who 
fought  and  perished  in  the  wars  precisely  like  the 
men,  up  to  the  time  when  the  most  illustrious  of 
Columba’s  successors  delivered  them  from  that  ter- 


Atrocities  common  in  Ireland.  1 6 1 


rible  bondage.  A single  incident  drawn  from  the 
sanguinary  chaos  of  the  period  will  suffice  at  once 
to  paint  the  always  atrocious  habits  of  those  Celtic 
Christians,  and  the  always  beneficent  influence  of 
monastic  authority.  A hundred  years  after  the 
death  of  Columba,  his  biographer  and  ninth  succes- 
sor, \damnan,  was  crossing  a plain,  carrying  his 
old  mother  on  his  back,  when  they  saw  two  bands 
fighting,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  battle  a woman 
dragging  another  woman  after  her,  whose  breast 
she  had  pierced  with  an  iron  hook.  At  this  hor- 
rible spectacle  the  abbot’s  mother  seated  herself  on 
the  ground,  and  said  to  him,  “ I will  not  leave  this 
spot  till  thou  hast  promised  me  to  have  women 
exempted  for  ever  from  this  horror,  and  from  every 
battle  and  expedition.”  He  gave  her  his  word, 
and  he  kept  it.  At  the  next  national  assembly  of 
Tara,  he  proposed  and  carried  a law  which  is  in- 
scribed in  the  annals  of  Ireland  as  the  Law  of 
Adamnan , or  Law  of  the  Lnno cents,  and  which  for 
ever  freed  the  Irish  women  from  the  obligation  of 
military  service  and  all  its  homicidal  consequences. 

At  the  same  time,  nothing  was  more  common  in 
Ireland  than  the  armed  intervention  of  the  monks 
in  civil  wars,  or  in  the  struggles  between  different 
communities.  We  may  be  permitted  to  believe 
* that  the  spiritual  descendants  of  Columba  reckoned 
among  them  more  than  one  monk  of  character  as 
warlike  as  their  great  ancestor,  and  that  there  were 
as  many  monastic  actors  as  victims  in  these  des- 

L 


1 62  The  Statute  of  Kilkenny. 

perate  conflicts.  Two  centuries  after  Columba, 
two  hundred  monks  of  his  abbey  at  Durrow  per- 
ished in  a battle  with  the  neighbouring  monks  of 
Clonmacnoise ; and  the  old  annalists  of  Ireland 
speak  of  a battle  which  took  place  in  816,  at  which 
eight  hundred  monks  of  Ferns  were  killed.  The 
Irish  religious  had  not  given  up  either  the  warlike 
humour  or  the  dauntless  courage  of  their  race. 

Nor  is  it  less  certain  that  the  studious  fervour 
and  persevering  patriotism  which  were  such  marked 
features  in  the  character  of  Columba  remained  the 
inalienable  inheritance  of  his  monastic  posterity — 
an  inheritance  which  continued  up  to  the  middle 
ages,  to  the  time . of  that  famous  statute  of  Kil- 
kenny, which  is  an  ineffaceable  monument  of  the 
ferocious  arrogance  of  the  English  conquerors, 
even  before  the  Reformation.  This  statute,  after 
having  denounced  every  marriage  between  the  two 
races  as  an  act  of  . high  treason, , went  so  far  as  to 
exclude  all  native  Irish  from  the  monasteries — from 
those  same  monasteries  which  Irishmen  alone  had 
founded  and  occupied  for  eight  centuries,  and  where, 
before  and  after  Columba,  they  had  afforded  a 
generous  hospitality  to  the  British  fugitives  and  to 
the  victorious  Saxons. 

But  we  must  not  permit  ourselves  to  linger  on 
the  Irish  coasts.  We  shall  soon  again  meet  her  * 
generous  and  intrepid  sons,  always  the  first  in  the 
field,  and  the  most  ready  to  expose  themselves  to 
danger,  among  the  apostles  and  propagators  of 


Monasteries  founded  by  the  Saint.  163 

monastic  institutions,  upon  the  banks  of  the  Scheldt, 
the  Rhine,  and  the  Danube,  where  also  they  were 
eclipsed  and  surpassed  by  the  Anglo-Saxons,  but 
where  their  names,  forgotten  in  Ireland,  still  shine 
with  a pure  and  beneficent  light. 

The  influence  of  Columba,  so  universal,  undeni- 
able, and  enduring  in  his  native  island,  should  not 
have  been  less  so  in  his  adopted  country — in  that 
Caledonia  which  became  more  and  more  an  Irish 
or  Scotic  colony,  and  thus  merited  the  name  of 
Scotland,  which  it  retained.  Notwithstanding,  his 
work  has  perhaps  left  fewer  authentic  traces  there. 
All  unite  in  attributing  to  him  the  conversion  of 
the  Northern  Piets,  and  the  introduction  or  re- 
establishment of  the  faith  among  the  Piets  of  the 
South  and  the  Scots  of  the  West.  It  is  also  pretty 
generally  agreed  to  date  from  his  times  even 
though  there  is  no  evidence  of  their  direct  subordi- 
nation to  Iona— the  great  monasteries  of  Old  Mel- 
rose, of  Abercorn,  Tynninghame,  and  Coldingham, 
situated  between  the  Forth  and  the  Tweed,  and 
which  afterwards  became  the  centres  of  Christian 
extension  among  the  Saxons  of^  Northumbria. 
Further  north,  but  still  upon  the  east  coast,  the 
round  towers  which  are  still  to  be  seen  at  Brechin 
and  Abernethy  bear  witness  to  their  Irish  origin, 
and  consequently  to  the  influence  of  Columba,  who 
was  the  first  and  principal  Irish  missionary  in  these 
districts.  The  same  may  be  said  of  those  primi- 
tive and  lowly  constructions,  built  with  long  and 


1 64  Sf  Kentigern. 

large  stones  laid  upon  each  other,  without  cement, 
which  are  to  be  found  in  St  Kilda  and  other  He- 
bridean isles,  and  also  upon  certain  points  of  the 
neighbouring  shore,  resembling  exactly  in  form  the 
deserted  monasteries  which  are  so  numerous  in  the 
isles  of  western  Ireland.  Another  relic  of  the 
primitive  Church  is  found  in  the  caves,  hollowed 
out  or  enlarged  by  the  hand  of  man,  in  the  cliffs  or 
mountains  of  the  interior,  inhabited  of  old,  as  were 
the  grots  of  Subiaco  and  Marmoutier,  and  as  the 
caves  of  Meteores  in  Albania  are  still,  by  hermits, 
or  sometimes  even  by  bishops  (as  St  Woloc,  St 
Regulus).  Kentigern,  the  apostle  of  Strathclyde, 
appears  to  us  in  the  legend  at  the  mouth  of  his 
episcopal  cave,  which  was  hollowed  out  in  the  side 
of  a cliff,  and  where  the  people  looked  at  him  from 
afar  with  respectful  curiosity,  while  he  studied  the 
direction  of  the  storms  at  sea,  and  breathed  in  with 
pleasure  the  first  breezes  of  the  spring. 

This  bishop,  Welsh  by  birth,  has  already  been 
mentioned  in  connection  with  the  principality  of 
Wales,  where,  as  we  have  already  seen,  he  founded 
an  immense  monastery  during  an  exile,  the  cause 
of  which  it  is  impossible  to  ascertain,  but  which 
was  the  occasion  of  a relapse  into  idolatry  among 
his  diocesans.  The  district  of  Strathclyde  or  Cum- 
bria, on  the  west  coasts  of  Britain,  from  the  mouth 
of  the  Clyde  to  that  of  the  Mersey — that  is  to  say, 
from  Glasgow  to  Liverpool — was  occupied  by  a 
mingled  race  of  Britons  and  Scots,  whose  capital 


Glasgow  Cathedral 165 

was  Al-Cluid,  now  Dumbarton.  A prince  called 
Roderick  (Rydderch  Hael),  whose  mother  was 
Irish,  and  who  had  been  baptised  by  an  Irish  monk, 
hastened,  when  the  authority  fell  into  his  hands,  to 
recall  Kentigern,  who  returned  bringing  with  him 
a hive  of  Welsh  monks,  and  established  definitively 
the  seat  of  his  apostleship  at  Glasgow,  where  Ninian 
had  preceded  him  nearly  a century  before  without 
leaving  any  lasting  traces  of  his  passage.  Kenti- 
gern, more  fortunate,  established  upon  the  site  of 
a burying-ground  consecrated  by  Ninian  the  first 
foundation  of  the  magnificent  cathedral  which  still 
bears  his  name. 

It  was  consecrated  by  an  Irish  bishop,  brought 
from  Ireland  for  the  purpose,  and  who  celebrated 
that  ceremony  without  the  assistance  of  other 
bishops,  according  to  Celtic  customs.  Kentigern 
collected  round  him  numerous  disciples,  all  learned 
in  holy  literature,  all  working  with  their  hands,  and 
possessing  nothing  as  individuals — a true  monastic 
community.  He  distinguished  himself  during  all 
his  episcopate  by  his  efforts  to  bring  back  to  the 
faith  the  Piets  of  Galloway,  which  formed  part  of  the 
kingdom  of  Strathclyde ; and  afterwards  by  nume- 
rous missions  and  monastic  foundations  through- 
out all  Albyn — a name  which  was  then  given  to 
midland  Scotland.  His  disciples  penetrated  even 
to  the  Orkney  Isles;  where  they  must  have  met 
with  the  missionaries  of  Iona. 

The  salutary  and  laborious  activity  of  Kentigern 


1 66  St  Kentigern  and  St  Columba . 

must  often  have  encroached  upon  the  regions  which 
were  specially  within  the  sphere  of  Columba.  But 
the  generous  heart  of  Columba  was  inaccessible  to 
jealousy.  He  was  besides  the  personal  friend  of 
Kentigern  and  of  King  Roderick.  The  fame  of  the 
Bishop  of  Strathclyde’s  apostolic  labours  drew  him 
from  his  isle  to  do  homage  to  his  rival.  He  ar- 
rived from  Iona  with  a great  train  of  monks,  whom 
he  "arranged  in  three  companies  at  the  moment  of 
their  entrance  into  Glasgow.  Kentigern  distributed 
in  the  same  way  the  numerous  monks  who  sur- 
rounded him  in  his  episcopal  monastery,  and  whom 
he  led  out  to  meet  the  abbot  of  Iona.  He  divided 
them,  according  to  their  age,  into  three  bands,  the 
youngest  of  whom  marched  first ; then  those  who 
had  reached  the  age  of  manhood ; and,  last  of  all, 
the  old  and  grey-haired,  among  whom  he  himself 
took  his  place.  They  all  chanted  the  anthem,  In 
viis  Domini  magna  est  gloria  Domini , et  via  just  or  um 
facta  est : et  iter  sanctorum  prceparaium  est.  The 
monks  of  Iona,  on  their  side,  chanted  in  choir  the 
versicle,  Ibunt  sancti  de  virtute  in  virtutem : vide- 
bitur  Deus  eorum  in  Sion.  From  each  side  echoed 
the  Alleluia ; and  it  was  to  the  sound  of  those  words 
of  Holy  Scripture,  chanted  in  Latin  by  the  Celtic 
monks  of  Wales  and  Ireland,  that  the  two  apostles 
of  the  Piets  and  Scots  met  at  what  had  been  the 
extreme  boundary  of  the  Roman  Empire  and  limit 
of  the  power  of  the  Caesars,  and  upon  a soil  hence- 
forth for  ever  freed  from  paganism  and  idolatry. 


The  Stolen  Ram . 


167 


They  embraced  each  other  tenderly,  and  passed 
several  days  in  intimate  and  friendly  intercourse. 

The  historian  who  has  preserved  for  us  the  ac- 
count of  this  interview  does  not  conceal  a less  edi- 
fying incident.  He  confesses  that  some  robbers 
had  joined  themselves  to  the  following  of  the  abbot 
of  Iona,  and  that  they  took  advantage  of  the  general 
enthusiasm  to  steal  a ram  from  the  bishop’s  flock. 
They  were  soon  taken;  but  Kentigern  pardoned 
them.  Columba  and  his  fellow-apostle  exchanged 
their  pastoral  crosses  before  they  parted  in  token  of 
mutual  affection.  Another  annalist  describes  them 
as  living  together  for  six  months  in  the  monastery 
which  Columba  had  just  founded  at  Dunkeld,  and 
together  preaching  the  faith  to  the  inhabitants  of 
Athol  and  the  mountainous  regions  inhabited  by 
the  Piets. 

I know  not  how  far  we  may  put  faith  in  another 
narrative  of  the  same  author,  which  seems  rather 
borrowed  from  the  Gallo-Breton  epic  of  Tristan  and 
Iseult  than  from  monastic  legend,  but  which  has 
nevertheless  remained  Kentigern’ s most  popular 
title  to  fame.  The  wife  of  King  Roderick,  led 
astray  by  a guilty  passion  for  a knight  of  her  hus- 
band^ court,  had  the  weakness  to  bestow  upon  him 
a ring  which  had  been  given  to  her  by  the  king. 
When  Roderick  was  out  hunting  with  this  knight, 
the  two  took  refuge  on  the  banks  of  the  Clyde  dur- 
ing the  heat  of  the  day,  and  the  knight,  falling 
asleep,  unwittingly  stretched  out  his  hand,  upott 


1 68  Legend  of  the  Ring . 

which  the  king  saw  the  ring  which  he  had  given 
to  the  queen  as  a token  of  his  love.  It  was  with 
difficulty  that  he  restrained  himself  from  killing  the 
knight  on  the  spot ; but  he  subdued  his  rage,  and 
contented  himself  by  taking  the  ring  from  his  finger 
and  throwing  it  into  the  river;  without  awakening 
the  guilty  sleeper.  When  he  had  returned  to  the 
town  he  demanded  his  ring  from  the  queen,  and,  as 
she  could  not  produce  it,  threw  her  into  prison,  and 
gave  orders  for  her  execution.  She  obtained,  how- 
ever, a delay  of  three  days;  and  having  in  vain 
sought  the  ring  from  the  knight  to  whom  she  had 
given  it,  she  had  recourse  to  the  protection  of_St 
Kentigern.  The  good  pastor  knew  or  divined  all 
— the  ring,  found  in  a salmon  which  he  had  caught 
in  the  Clyde,  was  already  in  his  hands.  He  sent  it 
to  the  queen,  who  showed  it  to  her  husband,  and 
thus  escaped  the  punishment  which  awaited  her. 
Roderick  even  asked  her  pardon  on  his  knees,  and 
offered  to  punish  her  accusers.  From  this,  however, 
she  dissuaded  him,  and,  hastening  to  Kentigern, 
confessed  her  fault  to  him,  and  was  commanded  to 
pass  the  rest  of  her  life  in  penitence.  It  is  for  this 
reason  that  the  ancient  effigies  of  the  apostle  of 
Strathclyde  represent  him  as  holding  always  the 
episcopal  cross  in  one  hand,  and  in  the  other  a 
salmon  with  a ring  in  its  mouth. 

But  neither  Kentigern,  whose  labours  can  scarcely 
be  said  to  have  survived  him,  nor  Columba,  whose 
influence  upon  the  Piets  and  Scots  was  so  powerful 


Saxon  Monks  at  Iona . 169 

and  lasting,  exercised  any  direct  or  efficacious  ac- 
tion upon  the  Anglo-Saxons,  who  became  stronger 
and  more  formidable  from  day  to  day,  and  whose 
ferocious  incursions  threatened  the  Caledonian 
tribes  no  less  than  the  Britons.  It  is  apparent, 
however,  that  the  great  abbot  of  Iona  did  not  share 
the  repugnance,  which  had  hardened  into  a system 
of  repulsion,  of  the  Welsh  clergy  for  the  Saxon 
race : express  mention,  on  the  contrary,  is  made  in 
the  most  authentic  documents  connected  with  his 
history,  of  Saxon  monks  who  had  been  admitted 
into  the  community  of  Iona.  One  of  them,  for  in- 
stance, had  the  office  of  baker  there,  and  was  reck- 
oned among  Columba’s  intimates.  But  nothing  in- 
dicates that  these  Saxons,  who  were  enrolled  under 
the  authority  of  Columba,  exercised  any  influence 
from  thence  upon  their  countrymen.  On  the  con- 
trary, while  the  Scotic-Briton  missionaries  spread 
over  all  the  corners  of  Caledonia,  and  while  Co- 
lumba and  his  disciples  carried  the  light  of  the 
Gospel  into  the  northern  districts  where  it  had 
never  penetrated,  the  Christian  faith  and  the  Catho- 
lic Church  languished  and  gave  up  the  ghost  in  the 
southern  part  of  the  island  under  the  ruins  heaped 
up  everywhere  by  the  Saxon  conquest. 

Paganism  and  barbarism,  vanquished  by  the 
Gospel  in  the  Highlands  of  the  north,  again  arose 
and  triumphed  in  the  south — in  the  most  popu- 
lous, accessible,  and  flourishing  districts — through- 
out all  that  country,  which  was  destined  hereafter 

M 


170  The  Saxons  and  Britons. 

to  play  so  great  a part  in  the  world,  and  which 
already  began  *to  call  itself  England.  From  569  to 
586 — ten  years  before  the  death  of  Columba,  and 
at  the  period  when  his  authority  was  best  estab- 
lished and  most  powerful  in  the  north — the  last 
champions  of  Christian  Britain  were  finally  cast 
out  beyond  the  Severn,  while  at  the  same  time  new 
bands  of  Anglo-Saxons  in  the  north,  driving  back 
the  Piets  to  the  other  side  of  the  Tweed,  and  cross- 
ing the  Humber  to  the  south,  founded  the  future 
kingdoms  of  Mercia  and  Northumbria.  It  is  true 
that  at  a later  period  the  sons  of  Columba  carried 
the  Gospel  to  those  Northumbrians  and  Mercians. 
But  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  century,  after  a hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  of  triumphant  invasions  and 
struggles,  the  Saxons  had  not  yet  encountered  in 
any  of  the  then  Christian,  or  at  least  converted  na- 
tions (Britons,  Scots,  and  Piets),  which  they  had 
assailed,  fought,  and  vanquished,  either  missionaries 
disposed  to  announce  the  good  news  to  them,  nor 
priests  capable  of  maintaining  the  precious  nucleus 
of  faith  among  the  conquered  races.  In  586  the  two 
last  bishops  of  conquered  Britain,  those  of  London 
and  York,  abandoned  their  churches  and  took  re- 
fuge in  the  mountains  of  Wales,  carrying  with  them 
the  sacred  vessels  and  holy  relics  which  they  had 
been  able  to  save  from  the  rapacity  of  the  idolaters. 
Other  husbandmen  were  then  necessary.  From 
whence  were  they  to  come  ? From  the  same  inex- 
tinguishable centre,  whence  light  had  been  brought 


Romish  Missionaries.  1 71 

to  the  Irish  by  Patrick,  and  to  the  Britons  and  Scots 
by  Palladius,  Ninian,  and  Germain.  • 

And  already  they  are  here  ! At  the  moment 
when  Columba  approached  the  term  of  his  long 
career  in  his  northern  isle,  a year  before  his  death, 
the  envoys  of  Gregory  the  Great  left  Rome,  and 
landed,  wj^ere  Caesar  had  landed,  upon  the  English 
shore. 


THE  END. 


' 


PRINTED  BY  WILLIAM  BLACKWOOD  AND  SONS,  EDINBURGH. 


